One Foot in Sea
by Katta
Summary: Lost in a magical storm, the crew of the Jolly Roger fish up a half-drowned girl from the sea. Though Hook doesn't yet know it, this will affect his life in years to come.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

This story was started after Tallahassee and tweaked to fit Queen of Hearts, but hasn't been tweaked after that, so it's firmly AU by now.  
Despite the names Ariel and Erik, this is based on the fairytale version of The Little Mermaid, including the unpleasant bits. I've also used quite a few pirate names from Peter Pan, though I've taken some liberties with their personalities.  
There are direct quotes from Pippi Longstocking (in translation) and Pirates in the Deep Green Sea. Careful readers might also notice allusions to various HC Andersen tales, other fairy tales, Diana Wynne Jones, Michael Ende, Martin Ljung, Dick Francis, and probably someone else I've forgotten.  
Thanks to Nell, Becca, and Roseveare for the beta!

* * *

"Captain," Starkey said, his voice deep with worry, "there is a storm brewing."

Hook threw a glance over his shoulder, and stiffened when he saw the dark purple clouds moving swiftly in their direction. Not just any storm, but a storm of magic, the kind that could strand a traveller in the wrong world, were he not careful. Already, the clouds were too near; any escape would be a narrow one.

"All men on deck!" he cried. "Stand ready for club-hauling! Move, you dogs, if you care for your lives!"

The men ran to their position, and soon there was full activity on deck, everyone straining to get the vessel turned around and returning home. Despite their best efforts, the haze overtook them, rumbling with gathering thunder that stood their hair on edge.

"Hold on to something!" Hook yelled. He himself held onto the steering wheel, pulling so hard against the torrent of magic that sweat poured down his back.

From the water below, there was a hissing shriek, sounding neither human nor animal, and the look-out cried: "Man overboard!"

"Well, pull him up!"

A small group of crewmen broke loose from their tasks and, with some effort, managed to get the person out of the water. Too far up to see much, and too preoccupied with other things to pay much attention, Hook still saw a naked arm falling lifeless to the side of the dark bundle. Something about the image wasn't right, and he frowned. A pirate's skin was tanned and tough as leather, this was a blueish pale, too dainty even for a cabin boy.

"It's a lady!" one of the men called from the deck.

"It's a _what_? Starkey, take over here!"

Hook ran down onto a deck, and found the woman lying stretched out on her side, as the pirates were proceeding to lift her arms over her head and pound her on the back. Despite her unhealthy pallor, her face was beautiful, framed by ginger curls escaping from a long, thick braid. The effect reminded him of the dúlaman seaweed of his home port. While her dress was of a simple cut, the cloth was fine, and as Hook came closer, he saw traces of paint on her nails. A lady in waiting in some fine household, perhaps.

"Look at her feet!" someone whispered.

Her dress had slipped up in the commotion, leaving bare two stocking-less feet covered in glittering scales. Any other time Hook had seen something like that, it had formed a fish's tail, rather than human legs. Shocked, he looked closer at the girl, the tone of her skin and the hue of her curls now gaining a whole new meaning.

"What _have_ you done to yourself?" he asked, and leaned in further to check for vital signs.

Though she did not breathe, a weak pulse was still present. His hand on her neck brushed against some raised markings, shimmering of mother-of-pearl. He could not resist folding the dress aside to see what pattern they formed, and the results of his exploration made him blink. Definitely _not_ a lady in waiting.

With a new sense of urgency, he turned her over on her back and moved to breathe into her mouth. Sticking a finger in to keep the tongue away from the airway, he was startled at what he felt – or did not feel – and pulled back for a split second, before dismissing his findings as unimportant. He leaned in, lips against hers, filling the empty mouth with air.

"All right," he said. "Turn her over again."

The men did as told, and there was a moment's pause before the mermaid coughed, water streaming out of her mouth.

"There you go," Hook said. "Good girl."

The only answer he got was a gust of purple smoke swirling across the deck, reminding him that there were more pressing matters at hand. He stood up, leaving the stranger for his men to deal with as he returned his attention to command of the ship. They had now turned 180 degrees and were going in the right direction – at least he hoped they were, though the magic inside the cloud made it impossible to tell for certain.

"Full speed ahead!" he shouted, starting back towards the bridge. "Prepare to..."

There was a choked noise behind him, and then the mermaid bumped straight into him, before groggily making her way to the gunwale, a few of his men running after to stop her.

"No, no, no," he said, grabbing her around the waist, his arms linked together around hers. "You can't go back in there."

She struggled against the grip, grunting in protest.

"No. Listen to me, highness. You _can't_. Whatever happened to you, you're not a mermaid anymore. You almost drowned. Do you understand? And this storm is magical. Even if you survive, you could end up in any world."

She leaned heavily against his arms, pushing with her feet to get away, tears streaming down her face.

"It's suicide, you little fool!"

Turning to face him, she nodded slowly, a silent plea in her sea-blue eyes.

"You _want_ to die? Why would you...?"

She opened her mouth wide, showing the emptiness inside, and pulled at his arms again.

"Because your tongue is gone? No. You need me to let you go, so you can explain, is that it? Do you promise not to throw yourself over?"

At her fervent nods, he relaxed his grip. The moment she was free, she ran again for the gunwale, and he hurried to grab hold of her.

"Oh, no, you don't!" The magic was crackling in his ears, now, and he felt a spike of irritation – did she not realize that she was putting them all in danger? At the same time, he wasn't about to let go of something this valuable, if he could help it. "Starkey, you have the command!"

Half dragging, half carrying her, he managed to get them both below deck and into his cabin, which he locked, his hook firmly pressed against her chest as he did so. Only when the key was safely in his pocket did he let her loose. She immediately attacked, pounding at both him and the door, desperate to get out.

"Damn it, sweetheart, do you want to kill yourself and this crew too? You have your hands free as you requested. Now I'd like some sort of explanation what this is all about!"

With the same hissing shriek he'd heard from the ocean, she lashed out at the table, sending everything that wasn't nailed down flying across the floor. It occurred to him that maybe he could lock her in and return to the crew, but then, she might be able to force her way past him. He would just have to trust Starkey's ability to keep the ship steady on its way.

Exhausted and sobbing, she clasped her hands together in a plea for him to let her go.

"Sorry, love, I'm not letting you out there to die."

She nodded, motioned with her finger across her throat and pointed to herself.

"I know you want to kill yourself. Why?"

Her hands clasped together over her heart.

Willing to die for love, then. So far, her struggle had been to him only the obstacles thrown in by a particularly difficult piece of treasure, but this made him swallow hard. He remembered many a bleak day waking up in the morning, wondering what the point was of leaving his bed at all, when half of him lay dead on the ocean floor. "I know the feeling. Believe me, I do. But it will pass. And in any case, this is hardly the time or place. We need to ride out that storm."

She shook her head, somewhat calmer now that she had his attention on what she wanted to say. She motioned to show the storm, and blew gently to illustrate. With a fierce stab, she showed that it would kill her. Putting both hands out in front of her, she weighed them up and down, to show a balance. She put her own death in one balance, weighing it down, and then she weighed it back up, putting in the other the death of love.

His blood ran cold at the sight. "You die, or your lover does?"

She nodded.

"But surely there must be another way?"

She gave a firm headshake and blew again.

"It has to happen while the storm lasts?" With a sinking feeling, he looked out the porthole. The clouds were already a lot less dense than before. Though he still didn't like the thought of sending her out to die, he had to admit that she had as much right as anyone to save her love in the manner of her choice, and so he hauled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, opening it wide for her. "Go on, then."

She ran past him without a second glance, and continued up the ladder with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for someone who had just been brought back from the brink of death. More slowly, he followed her onto the deck and motioned for the men to leave her alone as she threw herself once more at the gunwale, going over just as the clouds drifted away and gathered at the horizon. He watched her swim, in long, flowing strokes that made her heritage clear, but even so, she was not fast enough: before she could reach the clouds, they shrank and disappeared.

Her face couldn't be seen from the distance, but he could see her throw her head back, and beyond that, he could hear the mournful shriek of pain and loss.

"Go pick her up again," he told the crew, quietly.

"Captain?" It was William Smee, gaze focused on something astern. "I've never seen that shore of land before."

Hook turned to see, and sighed. "We came out the wrong side of the storm." It probably would have happened either way, but it couldn't be denied that the mermaid's appearance had taken valuable time away from their effort to steer the ship to safety. "Never mind, we'll fix that later. Now, pick her up."

"But Captain, in this world..."

"In this world we will not remain long," he cut Smee off, impatiently. "Meanwhile, you get that top-drawer nereid out of the water. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Good."

He wondered, as he stood waiting for the stranger to be brought back on board, whether all this had really been worth the trouble. If he had ignored her plight, or let her go over when she first attempted to, perhaps they could have remained in Neverland, instead of lost in mortal lands with a suicidal mermaid. Going back would be a devil to arrange, and time was flying already. Even so, as they dragged her back on deck, miserable and weeping, but alive and awake, he couldn't regret his decision.

"I'm sorry," he said, offering her his coat. "Truly, I am."

Slowly, she sat down on the deck, wrapped her arms around her fishy knees, and simply cried.

* * *

Most pirate crews had no women on board, due to some kind of superstition regarding bad luck. This had never been a policy on board the Jolly Roger, and Hook's fortune had been none the worse for it. At the moment, the ship held three tough pirate lasses, as well as two sweethearts that had gone with their men, and the mermaid. The difference was, he'd have to do something about the mermaid, and it would be damned hard unless she started to communicate.

This morning, she was sitting on deck, listlessly leaning her head against the bridge as she stared off into the horizon. With her love gone, she seemed to care little what became of her, and had not even made any inquiry as to where they were headed. It was a waste of a fine young woman, as far as Hook was concerned, not to mention of the potential reward at her safe return. With anyone else, he would have played up the old charm, given her a little something else to think about. Considering the situation, though, that would likely bring him a sock in the jaw and no further results. Her true love had just died, and from what he could tell, she had inadvertently caused it, though he still wasn't clear on just how that connection worked, or how she could even know for certain that he was dead. You'd think that at the very least she would want to witness his funeral, just to make sure.

That thought stuck; he strode forward to her, and sat down on his heels to ask, "Is this your world?"

Though she did not change her position or show any interest, her gaze did lift to meet his.

"We were lost from our world in the storm. Is this yours? Do you recognize it?"

At this, she did raise her head and looked around, giving a small nod that meant, _"Yes. So what?"_

"If your love truly died last night, there will be a while yet before he is laid to rest. Would you like to say your last farewells?"

The light that awoke in her eyes was visible even behind the tears welling up. She rose, hastily, while trying to smooth out her dress, which was hopelessly stained and wrinkled after yesterday's time in the ocean. Even before she had finished straightening her back, she started to sway, and he caught hold of her shoulder.

"Easy, lass," he said. "What do you say we get you some breakfast, first?"

She shook her head.

"You need the strength." A thought struck him. "The base of your tongue is still there, isn't it? So you can still swallow. Right, breakfast it is, then. A bit of light fish, or maybe some porridge. I'll tell the cook; it won't be the first such meal he's prepared." He leaned in closer, and the wink and the smirk came by instinct as he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Pirates have an awful tendency to lose all kinds of bits."

Rather than being offended, she laughed, and then her eyes filled with tears again. He stroke her cheek, once, then stood up. "Find some clean clothes, lads!" he told the crew. "We're going to a funeral."

On his way to the galley, he passed Teynte, who raised her eyebrows at him in a way that was close to, but not quite, insolent. She'd always been a cocky one; that was a large reason why he'd hired her in the first place.

"What?" he asked.

"I need a new sea chart, to fit this world. And we all need a portal back. Shouldn't that be our first priority?"

"There's time."

"Every minute here is a minute we're ageing."

"I know that. I'm asking my crew to give but a little of their precious time to help a lady in distress."

Teynte's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so bleeding heart all of a sudden? What's so important about her?"

Hook paused, unable to articulate, even to himself, why he shouldn't just dump the former mermaid in the first populated area and be done with it. Yes, the evidence of a finer breeding than her outfit had suggested was part of it. Mere curiosity at her bizarre fate was another. Not to mention that he'd spent too much time fishing her up to want to see her throw herself back in the water.

But beyond all that, he'd known that despair, the taste of ash in his mouth. At least he'd had his revenge to keep him going on the darkest of days. What did she have?

"Don't make me lash you for insubordination, Eddy," he snapped and went on his way.

* * *

Some of the pirates cleaned up a little, or changed their shirt, before they stepped on shore. Most did nothing. Hook had found a more suitable dress for the mermaid among the ladies' wear, and donned his finest black, but as he scanned the crowd, he found that something was off. These were not the subdued mourners of a funeral procession. These people were dressed up for a party, some strewing flowers on the ground or raising branches into the air, many in the midst of a bright chatter or a piece of gossip.

"What on earth's going on?" he asked no one in particular.

The mermaid mirrored his emotion, following the activities of the crowd wide-eyed, with a mix of hope and disbelief on her face. She caught hold of an old woman among the passing people, and gestured at the commotion around them to ask what was going on.

"Why, it's the royal wedding, of course!" the woman exclaimed. "Haven't you heard? The event of the year, they call it. From what I hear, Princess Elaine's dress is quite exquisite. I can't wait to see it."

The woman craned her neck to look down the road, and the mermaid had to knock on her shoulder to get her attention again. With trembling hands, she signed a crown, and then both hands by her chest, as if choking.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked, frowning.

"I believe she's asking about the prince's health," Hook said, trying to make sense of this. It seemed this prince was the mermaid's love, but then, how could he be alive, and how could the wedding still be underway? Surely someone would have noticed the bride missing, enough to pay a pretty penny to get her back.

"Oh!" the woman said. "Yes, he was quite ill, he was. They say he was near death's door, and then, during that awful storm, he woke up and was right as rain again. Like a miracle."

The mermaid laughed, nodded, and gave the old woman an enthusiastic hug before turning around to give Hook one too.

"Thanks, lass," he said, returning the favour, and held on a tad longer than he would have before – after all, she was no longer a widow and not yet a wife. "It seems that half-drowning was enough to do the trick, hey? Come on, do you want to find that prince of yours?"

She shook her head, still laughing, and showed him that, look, she could see perfectly fine from where they stood.

"Yes, but I think that for the wedding to proceed, the bride has to be there."

Her wince filled in the piece of the puzzle that had eluded him before. "He's marrying someone _else_?" Hook asked, outraged. "You almost died for this man, and he's marrying someone else?"

She pulled him aside, a finger against her lips to warn him to stay quiet: people were already giving them odd looks, and even the pirates were glancing over their shoulders.

"Did you know about this?" he asked in a more hushed tone.

She gave a brisk nod and then lit up as a trumpet fanfare heralded the arrival of the bridal couple. The crowd surged into the street, but guards holding lances kept them at a respectful distance, followed by more guards on horseback. And there were the young prince and princess themselves, dressed up in a sackful of jewellery that could bring in a fortune at the open market. Hook remained in his place while the mermaid stepped forward, but he couldn't help taking interest, especially when the bejewelled royalty made way for the procession of bridesmaids, each one lovelier than the one before.

One of these beauties caught sight of the mermaid and broke loose from the line, calling, "Jenny! Where have you been?" Pushed back by the guards, she was forced to retreat, but shouted, "You have to come to the reception! And your gentleman friend too. Promise! We've all missed you!"

The mermaid nodded and blew a kiss at the girl, who returned to her place and whispered something in the ear of the maid standing next to her. Soon, several of the bridesmaids were giving small waves to the mermaid.

"Jenny?" Hook asked. "Is that your name?"

She shook her head, still smiling, though her smile wavered a little as the procession disappeared down the road.

"Well, now," Hook said, taking her arm in his. The prospect of a party lightened his mood from the temporary setback of not having the country's future queen in his custody after all. "Shall we prepare for the reception?" Seeing her doubtful expression, he continued, "After all, I am your gentlemen friend, and I must admit, a regal wedding reception is not something I have ever participated in before."

For a moment, she hesitated, but then she shrugged and gave a little head-jerk. _"Well, why not?"_

"That's the spirit. Lads," he told the pirates, "take the night off. I'll see you all on the Roger tomorrow. If you need further funds, I trust you know how to get them. Shall we, milady?"

* * *

The wedding reception was more luxurious than he could have imagined, and a great argument for making more royal acquaintances. There was a shortage of hard liquor, but a great deal of fine wine, and food you would not encounter in centuries on board a ship. Not to mention the numerous ladies-in-waiting, who tended to give Hook dubious glances at first sight, but who were easy enough for him to warm up. One of them, a tall, loquacious brunette named Gerda, proceeded to tell him all about his mysterious mermaid friend – apart from, as it turned out, her actual identity, which she knew nothing about.

"She was washed up on the beach one day!" With a lower voice, she added, "As the day she was born, if you know what I mean! All covered in fish slime from the ocean, and not a word could she speak, poor thing! I'd just die, if it were me."

Hook, frowning, looked over at the mermaid, who sat with her eyes downcast, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

"So why 'Jenny'?" he asked.

"Well, we had to call her something! We're all so fond of her, she's the sweetest thing, and the prince plain adores her. He takes her along on his hunting trips, and nothing would do, but that she sleep on a cushion outside his door. Isn't that lovely?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Isn't it just?" he said cheerfully.

"And the way she dances – oh! I have never seen anything like it. I do hope the prince asks her to dance tonight. He usually does, you know."

The mermaid, seemingly preoccupied with her food, gave a small, secret smile at the compliment, and then was whisked away by the girl who had called at her in the street, and whose name Hook thought was either Ida or Liza.

"Jenny, darling, I'm so glad you're here!" Ida/Liza said. "Don't ever frighten us like that again! We had no idea where you'd gone, and with the prince so very sick last night, I feared the worst today. Come, be with us, let us delight in the happy ending!"

Hook watched them leave and then, left alone with Gerda, took a strange, foreign fruit from a bowl.

"Oh!" Gerda said. "That one needs to be peeled. Do you want me to..."

"No, it's fine," he said, spiking the fruit to hold it still, while he eyed Gerda in a way that made her blush. Though he did find her rather tiresome, she provided more clues than the mermaid herself did, and there was certainly nothing wrong with the exterior. "So, tell me, what happened with the prince last night?"

They carried on the conversation for a while, and then proceeded with some discreet wooing in a shaded doorway, until the prince's voice called out:

"My friends, you are all so dear to me. Perhaps dearest of all is my devoted page, foundling Jenny, who has agreed to dance for us tonight, to make mine and Elaine's happiness complete!"

"This I have to see," Hook said, and withdrew his mouth from Gerda, so he could return to the grand hall.

The orchestra had taken their position by the middle of the back wall, and in front of them, an area had been cleared for the dancing. The mermaid stood there, alone, arms hanging, shoes left on the side of the room so that her feet were now clad only in black stockings. When the orchestra struck up the first dulcet tones she started swaying, hands rising higher and higher, fingers beating out the rhythm on air. Her feet moved across the floor, first slowly, then faster, and with such grace that it would seem that she never touched the ground. Deep in concentration, her entire body became a vibrating chord of music, ever-changing.

Hook grinned. No one who had ever seen a mermaid dance could mistake this for anything else, despite the earthly surroundings and her feet on the floor. Even by mermaid standards, though, this one was superb, enthralling the whole audience, with her face in a blissful smile even as sweat poured down her face and left wet footprints on the dark carpet.

His face grew serious in an instant. Something about those footprints was not right, though he could not venture close enough to see what.

The dance came to an end. For a moment, nobody made a sound; then they all broke into rambunctious applause.

People came up to the mermaid to congratulate her, and she followed them with light steps to the banquet table, where she was given sweet wine and fruit. Meanwhile, Hook approached the spot where she had danced, and sank down on one knee to inspect the carpet. His suspicions confirmed, he looked back at the mermaid. She had by now swallowed half her cup of wine and was beaming at the prince, who offered her what seemed to be the highest praise. Only the slightest tension in her shoulders could indicate anything but happiness.

"Well, fuck me," Hook muttered, then shrugged, and went to find some more food.

* * *

The night progressed, and the party gathered together to see the bride and groom off on a luxurious ship, ornamented and well-carved in every detail but neither fast nor sturdy, clearly built for pleasure rather than practicality. Hook watched with wry amusement and his arm around that Ida/Liza girl – it was much too late now to ask for any clarification on the name issue. After the ship had sailed, she yawned behind her hand and politely thanked him for the company, announcing that she needed to sleep.

"So soon, darling?" he asked. "I was looking forward to spending some more time with you."

"You're a rake," she said and gave him a drunken finger tap on the nose. "Don't think I didn't see you with Gerda, before. And you came here with Jenny! Jenny's a good girl, she deserves better. You be good to Jenny."

"_You_ be good to Jenny," he replied, but it did serve as a reminder that he'd originally had another reason for coming.

Once he had delivered his current company in the safe hands of her friends, he sought out the mermaid, whom he found in one of the gardens, soaking her feet in a fish pond. The fish swam in tight circles around her, as if their cold fish hearts were thrilled to see her. Her face was obscured by her long, loose curls of hair, but from the dejected curve of her back, the excitement wasn't mutual.

"I am having a marvellous time," Hook declared and sat down next to her, legs crossed. "You don't seem to be, though. That's a pity."

Her lips curled into something that might have been the beginning of a smile, but might also have been an attempt not to cry.

"Have your feet stopped bleeding, at least?"

She looked up at that, eyes widened.

"Oh, yes, I noticed," he assured her, "even if your prince did not. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, that one, is he?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she hurried to wipe them away. Hook sighed.

"Let's have a look at you," he said and gently fished one of her feet out of the water. The scales glittered in the moonlight, but the skin was unbroken, and as he ran his thumb against the sole of her foot, he could feel no blemish to suggest it had ever been otherwise. "What on earth... I know I didn't imagine it."

She waved her hand in the air like a wand.

"So there is some sort of spell? That made you human? Is the blood part of that too?"

A quick nod, and she gestured with cramped hands and a pained grimace a fish's tail torn in two, and every step sending stabs into the foot.

"Hardly seems worth it," he said. The grim feeling in his heart made him wonder if he was starting to sober up. "And your tongue?"

She rubbed her fingertips together.

"Payment, for the spell? A spell that already has you in agony. Sweetheart, if I were you, I'd ask for a refund. Was all this for that boy?"

There was no reply, but the way she turned her head away was an answer in itself.

"So, what will it be now? Cut your losses, or try to win him back? You'll have a bloody row of it with the latter, I'm afraid. Especially if you go for queen. People don't take as well to royal divorces as they do royal weddings. You may have to settle for concubine. Power behind the throne, that kind of thing."

She shook her head vehemently.

"No? You want the queenship? Not that either. So you're leaving, good for you. Still no, and... _no_. You're not staying as his _page_?" He spat out the last word, disappointed in her meekness as well as this obstacle in finding her well-off relatives. "Damn it, woman, what's wrong with you?"

Affronted, she pulled back her feet under herself, wrapping her arms around them. Hook leaned back, staring at the sky, and longed for the woman who had left her life behind and run, who loved with fierce passion in a way you could never take for granted, generous and demanding in the same breath. They'd had so many quarrels, and yet, even as the harsh words flew through the air, he'd loved her with all his heart, not least because there had been a part of her that he could never possess, that was always and uniquely her own.

"I have loved a great many times," he admitted, and perhaps he was still drunk after all, to speak like this. "Some briefly. A few truly. I know what it's like, to cherish someone's life more than your own. To be willing to die, if that could bring them back. But I have never, ever, in my unnaturally long life, wasted a single second on someone who would have me sleep outside their door on a cushion, and who'd talk to me as if I were a lapdog."

He would have expected her to start crying again, or to be offended and leave. He did not expect the mermaid to attack him with closed fists. Before he had time to react, she even got a semi-efficient punch in. At least there was some fire left in her, even if it was aimed in the wrong direction.

"All right, stop!" he said, catching her left wrist in his hook, which effectively blocked her right as well. After a momentary standstill, she let her arms fall down, and he stood up, brushing the dirt off his trousers. "What's it to me, what you do? Your life is your own. Waste it as you like."

He turned to leave, but something made him pause and glance back at her face, which no longer held any sorrow, much less that ethereal smile of before. Instead, there was an element of defiance which, although it didn't quench his irritation, still made him say: "If you do decide there's more you want of life... well. The Jolly Roger remains in harbour a few more days. We could drop you off anywhere you please. Milady."

She stared at him for a moment, then sat back down and wrapped her arms around her knees, back turned to him. He supposed that was an answer as good as any.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all possible reminders of one's mortality, the first hangover in centuries was a particularly effective one. Hook woke up, cursed under his breath, and forced himself to get out of bed. It was certainly not the first time he had worked at less than prime capacity, nor the worst, but annoying enough nevertheless.

Everything took longer, that morning, but at long last he was presentable and stepped out on deck, where his crew was gathered, most of them just as haggard-looking as he felt. A few were even missing, and he made a mental note to address them later – short of a fatal wound, there was no excuse for tardiness.

"Morning, Captain." That was Starkey, far too bright-eyed and straight-backed, the bastard.

"Morning," Hook said. "We need to gather as much intelligence as we can before we set sail. Do we have a sea chart, yet?"

"Yessir. Teynte has purchased one and started marking out the main harbours and trade routes. Also, there are rumours of devices we might seek out to create a portal."

"Excellent news, well done!" Hook said, his spirits lifted. Seeing Starkey's expression, he asked, "Was there anything else?"

"That girl... the mermaid one. She's down on the pier. Did you tell her something?"

Hook grinned and sauntered to the gangplank, where he spotted the mermaid, sitting on the pier with her feet in the water. He raised his fingers for a whistle, then decided against it and walked down to her instead. Unlike last night, she heard him coming and stood up, a question in her eyes.

"It's very lovely to see you again," he said with a courteous bow, only to add, "How bloody long have you been sitting there, anyway? Come on board, lass, there's no need to be shy!"

Despite his reassurance, she boarded the ship with some hesitation. He held out an arm to her as she crossed the gangway – with her nereid grace, it wasn't strictly necessary, but it served as a sign of welcome.

"Fellows," he said, "you remember yesterday's visitor."

There were a few dubious expressions, but not many; the crew knew better than to needlessly question their captain's judgement. Even so, he noticed only one welcoming smile, on Cecco's Sara.

Turning to the mermaid, Hook continued, "We plan to visit some nearby harbour towns. Do you have anywhere in particular you want to go?"

She shook her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

"Very well. Mullins! Mullins will make sure that you're comfortable. I'm afraid that I have a ship to attend to, but I will join you, later today. I promise. And the very first thing we'll do, I _will_ find out your name."

Mullins stepped up to lead the mermaid to the ladies' cabin, and Hook watched them leave, marvelling at the way her long red braid moved against her behind with every light stride. That kind of motion shouldn't be possible out of the water.

Tearing himself away from the sight, he returned to his duties. "Listen up, lads! We're not ready to set sail quite yet, I'm afraid. Cookson! Make a list of supplies. Cecco! You're in charge of procuring them. Teynte, show me that chart of yours! Starkey..." He turned back to his first mate. "Give me the full run-down on those rumours you've heard."

* * *

It was late afternoon before Hook had the time to go below deck to the ladies' cabin.

"My apologies for the delay," he said as he stepped inside.

The mermaid was not alone. Sara was there, sitting next to her on the left-side bottom bunk, and smirked in a way that indicated Hook had been the topic of conversation. No matter, there was only so much Sara knew about him anyway, and she was much too clever to give away the worst of it.

The mermaid rose to her feet in a single, flowing movement, and gave him an expectant smile.

"Shall I give you some privacy?" Sara asked pointedly.

"No need," Hook answered. "I believe that this conversation can be better carried out in my own quarters anyway. Don't you agree?" he asked the mermaid.

She looked bewildered, but followed him to the captain's cabin, where he took out his writing tools and invited her to sit down.

"There," he said when everything was in order. "First things first. I don't suppose you read and write?"

She shook her head, as he had expected. While mermaids no doubt had some form of educational system, it would by necessity be very different from any such human establishment.

"And your name, it's not something you can easily act out, is it, like a common noun or adjective? No, of course not, you would have done so already. Then we shall start from the beginning, instead."

He wrote out the letters of the alphabet in clear, simple strokes, as he had first learned them from his schoolmaster. Putting the pen down in its holder, he pointed and explained: "Each one of these symbols represents a sound, and together they form words. A few of them make up your name, and I intend to find out which ones. Now, from the top: does it start with A? No? B?"

She watched with great interest, and once he reached R she nodded enthusiastically.

"R? Brilliant! After this R, do we have A, B, C, D, E... E? You see, we're getting somewhere!"

When he continued, she held her hand over the first five letters and shook her head to indicate "none of these," and so he skipped straight to F and took it from there, until they reached L and she nodded again, looking satisfied.

"We're done?" he asked. "R-E-L, that makes Rel. Your name is Rel?" It was an odd kind of name, particularly for a mermaid, and one of royal blood at that – they tended to pick something more extravagant.

She frowned at his question and pointed at the letters they had chosen, one at a time.

"Yes. R-E-L, that's... Oh. Ariel. Your name is Ariel?"

The fervent nod and triumphant smile confirmed that he'd got it right.

"Ariel," he said, trying it out. "That's beautiful. Although it's not spelled quite like you'd think." He wrote _"Ariel"_ on the sheet of paper. "The names of letters and their sounds aren't always the same. Take my name, which is Killian, as you know." Below the K of the alphabet, he wrote his own name as well. "It starts with a K, but the actual -ay sound is nowhere in it."

Ariel looked down at the word, then at him, and bent two fingers on her left hand into a claw – or hook.

"Ah, yes. _That_ name. Yes, you could use that too. It'd be easier, wouldn't it?"

He wrote down _"Hook"_, which felt odd in this context. Whenever he signed a document with that name, it was a warning, or a demand for respect. Not something he'd encourage a lady to use as he was trying to woo her.

Because he _was_ trying to woo her, he realized, even though her affections were occupied elsewhere and there could be little in the way of an interesting endgame. The situation in itself was pleasurable enough to satisfy, for the time being.

She had grabbed hold of the pen now, and thought she pressed too hard and had caused a number of blots already, her thrill at this new form of communication was evident. Rather than attempt the letters, she drew, in crude lines, a number of stick figures. First half a dozen mermaids, then a merman with a large beard, and finally another mermaid, with some kind of strange lumps on her tail. It was inexpert and smudged, like a child's drawing, and just like one of those, the subject was clear: her family.

"Do you want to return to them?" he asked, his heart pounding at the prospect of finally getting some clues concerning where to take her. Merfolk could be very generous, when they were in the mood. They had come to his aid before, in a big way, and the return of a princess might prove even more profitable.

She gestured at her chest, reminding him that she now had lungs and no longer could live under water.

"I'm sorry," he said, thinking that while this was indubitably true, they might very well want to just see her for a while. Family could be very sentimental.

Something about his statement seemed to give her pause, because she gave him a quizzical look and pointed, first to the drawing, then to him, using the tip of the pen.

"My family?" The memory held but a shadow of the old sting, and he tried to keep his voice light. "I'm older than I look, love. They're long gone."

Returning to her drawing, she made a line above the mermaids and crossed one of them out, drawing her again above the line, with legs. Once again, she pointed to the drawing, and this time she continued by pointing at both of them, telling him that the drawing of her could also portray him.

That hit a little too close to home, and he didn't respond. The last thing he wanted was to contemplate things they had in common.

Her blue eyes met his, and the pen hovered over the paper for a moment, before she put it down with a melancholy sigh.

"It's not all about blood bonds, you know," he offered. "You'll find a family again. You have a long life ahead of you."

It occurred to him that unless they found a way back, the natural lifespan of a mermaid meant that her life was likely to be considerably longer than his own. And what of his crew? They were sworn to his service, kinsmen in all ways that mattered, and he would not lose any of them if he could help it. Even with the riches stolen in town, they did not have enough funds available to purchase any item that could cause a magic portal, not with so much of their treasure still in Neverland. Merfolk help was one thing, but the pirates needed some more local currency immediately, which meant that within the next few days, they'd have to get back to work.

* * *

They overtook a couple of trade ships in the next fortnight, though Ariel was only present for the first, which caused her great distress. Hook had never known a mermaid to be so squeamish, and yet there was clearly no lack of courage: when one of the sailors on the first ship had tried to grab her, she'd bitten a chunk out of his arm with great ferocity, though she'd looked so mournful afterwards that Hook feared for her sanity. After that, he gave Sara firm orders to keep Ariel under decks during all battles.

Hook himself was glad to be back in the game, but the lack of progress frustrated him. Finally, halfway through the third week, in a dingy harbour inn, Starkey brought the breakthrough news:

"Apparently there's a man in Wuncey Town who has a pair of rings that can open portals."

Hook look out over the room, where the crew had spread out to enjoy their usual pastimes of gambling, lewd behaviour, and hard liquor. It was a beautiful sight, and while he'd be willing to leave them behind if it was his only chance to return to Neverland, he'd really rather not.

"Only one man can wear a ring, Starkey," he said.

"Aye, but according to the information I've got, the portals coming from these rings are large enough for several men to walk through, side by side. I can't speak for the ship, though." With the reluctance of someone who knew damned well the atrocity he was suggesting, Starkey continued, "We may have to leave the Roger."

Unlike the men, the ship was not immortal, but Hook had taken so much care to patch and mend her that it amounted to the same thing, and he cursed under his breath. "Better her than the men," he said heavily, "but let's hope it doesn't come to that. Do these rings have a price?"

"I haven't heard one yet, but I think we can assume it will be considerable."

"Hmm." Everything they had taken since their arrival had been small potatoes, and it occurred to Hook that they had made a vital tactical error. "We should have overtaken that damned royal pleasure cruiser when we had the chance."

"It's not too late for that. We could double back to Murchinport city, and see if we can find the ship on its return voyage. Even if we don't, there are other ships nearby."

A few too many ships to be quite safe, what with the royal navy, but that only added to the allure, as far as Hook was concerned.

"Good. Carry that through – and try to get me a price on those rings."

* * *

Starkey was reliable, and Teynte's charting impeccable as always. The Jolly Roger caught up with the prince's luxurious ship, and overtook it at night with no more trouble than catching a carp in a pond.

"The king shall have your heads for this!" the royal captain growled, and Hook grinned.

"The king shall find our heads well out of his reach," he said, "just as many have before. It's good to be back to our old sport, lads, is it not? It has been far too long since we last had a king at our heels."

The crew laughed their agreement.

"Thank you for providing us with so many valuable assets," he continued. "There is yet something you can provide, should you so desire. Yourselves. I offer you all a position on this ship, with a chance of great adventure and an equal share in everything we procure. Well," he amended, "captain's share is double, of course. Still, it is greater riches than most of you would ever see in your day, working for the government as you do. Not to mention, should our next quest go well, you'll have a shot at eternal youth."

"Don't listen to him!" the captain barked. "Remember your duty to king and country!"

"Which brings us to option number two," Hook said. "This little ship of yours has remarkably fine lifeboats. We are not so far from shore; if you work hard, you might make it back before you die of thirst." Addressing the prince, who stood huddled in the corner with his arms around the princess, he continued, "Your royal highness, I hold the monarchy in the highest respect. Naturally, you and your lovely bride shall have a lifeboat of your own, and some water. You can take turns at the oars."

"I know you," the prince said, sounding dazed. "You were at the wedding party. With..."

"With your little puppy," Hook agreed, "who is of a far more valuable breed than you ever imagined."

The prince's gaze settled on something further astern, and when Hook turned, he saw Ariel, standing pale and shocked by the gunwale of the Jolly Roger, both hands on the edge, even though she was supposed to be below decks, unknowing of which particular ship they had pursued. Sara, her intended keeper, was by her side, trying to pull her back, but Ariel shook her off and leaped up, crossing over to the occupied ship.

Hook cursed. "Get her back down!"

When the men moved to grab her, Ariel rushed forward, clasping her hands together in a plea. One pirate on each arm, she still managed to hold the position, and she sank down to her knees, forcing them to drag her along. The gesture was pleading, but her eyes blazed, their accusation against him clear. Hook felt a pang of irritation at Sara for failing the task, and then another at himself for not having thought to leave Ariel ashore.

"Jenny?" the prince asked. "Have they caught you too?"

"Her name's not Jenny," Hook snapped, "and she's not a prisoner."

Ariel winced at this, and Hook realized that from her perspective, she'd probably have preferred being passed off as a prisoner at this particular moment. That didn't mean he was willing to play along with such a deception.

He walked up to her and gently hoisted her back to her feet, getting none of the resistance that the others had faced. "Listen," he hissed, "I'm not going to hurt him. Do I look like I want the murder of the king's heir on my head? He will make it back home in one piece. I promise. You'll just have to trust me."

She shook her head, her hands still clasped.

Hook's lips thinned, and after a beat, he called out: "Bring supplies to the lifeboats. Food, drink, and blankets. To _all_ the lifeboats." When the crew remained still, he snapped, "That's an order!"

Ariel stood still, watching him, and he asked sarcastically: "Satisfied?"

She pursed her lips and gave a half-shrug, indicating, _"If that's the best you can do," _ and with her head held high, she allowed the others to take her back

The interruption spoiled Hook's mood, and when the lifeboats were on their way and the new recruits taken to the Jolly Roger, he tried to quench the feeling as he headed down to the cabins. Instead he was further irritated by Teynte, who raised her eyebrows at him as he passed by.

"Do you have something you want to say?" he snapped.

"You'll never make a pirate of her, you know," she said.

Asking "who" would have been such a transparent falsehood that Hook didn't bother. "Who says I want to?"

"Well, you sure don't seem in any hurry to return her home. We've been down this road before, remember? With Wen..."

"Eddy," Hook said, his voice a low growl. "I'll give you this, because it's you: Fair warning. Drop it. Now."

She rolled her eyes, but remained quiet, and he continued on his way, forcing his anger to make way for a calm veneer.

Both Sara and Molly were sitting around with Ariel and gave him guilty looks. Ariel herself rose the moment he entered, straight and haughty like a queen giving audience, and despite his irritation, he was amused by this contrast to the meek page and heartbroken lover.

The feeling helped him keep his voice sweet and apologetic as he said, "I know. I robbed your prince blind, and that's not nice. I admit it. But we're pirates, love. We can't stand to see treasure lying about unused."

She mimicked putting on a crown, and then held her hands up. _"The prince used it."_

"Oh, he didn't really use it, love. Not like we could."

Hook raised an eyebrow at the two other women, who relaxed and exchanged looks. They weren't pirates themselves, but had been around long enough to know what was what. Molly was the first to put her feet down, but Sara was the one who, at Hook's encouraging nod, drawled, "Come along, Molls, let's see what the boys have brought home to us."

They moved past Ariel to the door, and she glared at Hook, asking with gestures why he'd sent them out.

"I didn't say anything, love," he said. "You know I didn't."

She crossed her arms.

"They like treasures, just like the rest of us. Listen, lass, you have every right to be angry, but my aim was never to vex you. He just happened to have something I wanted, that's all. Those lifeboats are sturdy. Nothing but the best for the royal family. My guess is, by this time tomorrow, everyone will be home and licking their wounded egos, sending the navy after me as they damned well should. Do you want me to send you off along with them? Stick you in the same lifeboat as the prince, spare him the blistered hands?"

It was too late for that, as the lifeboats had already been sent on their way, but he counted on her not to call his bluff. Her gaze dropped, and he waited until she gave him the answer he had expected – a reluctant head shake.

"Good. I'll drop you off at the nearest harbour, if that's what you want. No problem at all. I would think it a frightful pity, though." With a wink, he added, "I do so enjoy our conversations."

The scoff she gave him was treacherously close to a laugh, and so he continued, in the same tone of voice: "I suggest you stay on board, just until you find a better offer. You don't even have to be around me if you don't want to. I'll stay out of your way. We've picked up one of your friends, anyway. The princess' chamber maid has agreed to join us."

Ariel's eyes widened, and she yanked the door open, running up towards the decks. Hook, not really too preoccupied, still went after her. He curious to see what would happen when she found the maid in question, which occurred at the end of the corridor, where a pair of petticoated legs came down the ladder.

"How do you stop it from slipping out of the boot?" a light, curious voice asked, and then the legs were followed by the rest of the body and a round face framed by masses of dark curls. "Jenny! I thought I recognized you! This place, would you believe it? They have _girl pirates_. And they say I can be one!"

She beamed with a barely containable joy, and though Ariel still looked doubtful, Teynte, coming down after the maid, was chuckling to herself.

"Miss Teynte has promised to show me how to use a sword. Though she says it's better to start with a dagger. She has one in her boot, so it's always handy and no-one even knows!"

"Teynte's excellent with a dagger," Hook said, "but I suggest you come to me for the swordplay."

The maid only now focused her attention on him, and fell silent.

"I'm Killian Jones, captain of this ship. Now, what's the name of my new recruit?"

She swallowed. "A-andie? I mean, it's Andie, captain. Sir."

She was such a sweet little duck, a tiny slip of a thing, that he rather found her amusing, but he had seen smaller and more lethal pirates than that, so who knew what time could bring. Either way, it was clear that it would take little effort on his part to earn her devotion, and he filed that away as useful information to bring to fruition at a later time.

"Welcome on board, Andie. Ariel, would you grace us with your presence long enough to help show this lovely young lady the ropes? As a previous acquaintance, I'm sure you can make her feel at home."

Ariel looked like she was more tempted to thump him over the head, which he rather thought was a good sign, but after a beat, she rolled her eyes. Her features softened as she put an arm around Andie and prodded her in the direction of the cabin.

"Ariel?" Andie asked, dazed. "Is that your real name? That's so beautiful. I wish I'd known that sooner!"

Hook gave Ariel a last fond gaze as she walked off with the other girl, and then he caught sight of Teynte's expression and warned her, "You..."

"Mum's the word!" Teynte promised, hands in the air.

"That cute little girl, though, what do you think?" he asked.

Teynte's face revealed nothing as she said, "I think you'll have to fight me for her. Captain. Stick to your mermaid."

"Hmm," he agreed. "For however long that lasts."

* * *

Ariel was sitting on the deck, with her head leaning back onto the railing and her legs stretched out to the side. The pose was similar to the one she'd held that first grieving morning, and yet so different. Hook walked up to her, and when his shadow fell over her face, she opened her eyes and took a deep, content breath.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She pointed towards the sun.

"Basking in the sun? That's nice." He sat down on his heels next to her and asked, "So, we haven't had a chance to talk in the past few days. What is our status now? Friends again?"

As an answer, she gathered her dress around her and patted the deck, inviting him to settle down.

"I can't stay long now either, I'm afraid," he said as he took her offer. "According to the chart, there are some nasty rocks a few miles away, and I need to keep an eye on things. Although for a little while, at least, I suppose I could bask."

Ariel circled her finger in the sky to indicate the roundness of the sun. Then she pointed to the sea and gestured a much hazier shape below the waves.

"I had never really thought of that," Hook said, fascinated by this new perspective. "It must be so much clearer than you're used to."

She gestured with a shudder how cold it was under the sea, and then relaxed her posture and smiled to show the warmth above.

"You _like_ it here." Somehow, that hadn't occurred to him, but it certainly explained why she was so ready to linger on the Jolly Roger. Teynte might be wrong after all – and somehow that was almost as promising a concept as any reward. "Oh, you might not have been willing to do it again, knowing what you know, but life above the surface... you actually enjoy it!"

Once again, she circled the sun's shape, and this time followed it with throwing her arms out to encompass everything around her. A gull cried from above, and she looked up, pointing towards it, gesturing the movement of a fish high in the sky, and then the song coming from its mouth.

"It's a bird, not a singing fish," he said, "but yes, I get your point. Quite the novelty. And cosmic irony would be if that novelty shat on you."

She shook her head and placed a finger right in his chest.

"Yes. You're right. Cosmic irony would be if it shat on _me_ after I said that cosmic irony would be if it shat on you." He squinted at the sky, watching the gull as it flew away across the ship towards a distant islet. In a mock whisper, he added, "I think we're both safe."

This made her laugh, but she cut the laughter short and hurried to close her mouth.

"Hey." He took her chin in his hand and tilted it his way. "Don't be afraid to laugh. You have nothing to be ashamed of. "

Tears filled her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, but also reached out her hands to take his and - after a moment of hesitation - the hook as well. Watching her run her fingers down the metal, he contemplated how women so often did that, as if it were a real part of him rather than a useful but unfeeling tool. Yet Ariel didn't seem to do it in fascination at a novelty, but as an act of kinship, a reminder to herself that she wasn't the odd one out.

In a way, he thought, the best thing to do would be to try a kiss, make her feel wanted, but there was the prince to consider. Even though she seemed to have forgiven Hook his little stint, it wouldn't do to move too quickly into the territory that belonged to tall, dark, and pointless.

"Captain?"

And of course, then there were sailors like Smee, with the worst possible timing.

"Yes?" Hook asked testily.

"Starkey says... uh... never mind."

"No, it's fine." He gave Ariel's hand a last quick squeeze before standing up. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Wuncey was a quaint little town with half-timbered houses surrounded by gardens – quite different from the city of Murchinport that they'd left behind, and even more different from the fishing harbours they'd seen since. Even finding a good place for shady deals took some time, and the inn chosen was a touch cleaner and more wholesome than their usual venue, but it would do.

The man with the rings, who went by the name of Nichols, was shifty enough to make up for it, a large, brooding fellow who kept throwing glances at the door. Once the deal was over, he relaxed visibly, draining his beer in a couple of gulps before hurrying away. He seemed too nervous, even for someone not used to dealing with pirates. Hook's eyes narrowed, and he wondered at first if the rings were somehow cursed and he had brought the curse upon himself by purchasing them.

The truth, discovered seconds later, was less troubling but still required some action. "Pardon me," Hook said, rising from the table. "I have some business to finish. You stay here."

He moved to take his sword, but decided against it and left it by the table. A few of the men gave him knowing smirks at that, though Ariel, unused to his methods, looked startled.

Stepping outside, Hook caught up to Nichols going down the street, and called, "Oi!"

Nichols started running without so much as a glance behind him, and Hook ran after, catching up after only a few blocks.

That was when the fool drew his sword. "What do you want?"

"Nice sleight-of-hand, there." Hook started circling the other man, who followed his every step with the sword point. "I might have been impressed, if you hadn't been scamming me."

"You've got what you came for."

"I got the green ring, yeah. Which is useless without the gold one, as well you know. You see, you couldn't possibly be aware of this, what with me being new to the area and all, but it's _really_ not safe to double-cross me."

They had now moved in a half circle, and Hook saw someone run down the street, with steps so light they were unmistakeable, even with her face half-hidden under a woollen cloak.

"Yeah?" Nichols had figured out the fact that he had a sword, and twice the body mass. "What are you going to do about it? Out here, alone, unarmed. I could slice your throat before you had a chance to even call for your mates."

"But I'm not alone," Hook said softly, and quite truthfully from a certain perspective.

Nichols' glance over his shoulder was very brief, but long enough for Hook to lunge forward, catching the sword with his hook to send it clattering to the ground, several feet away and of no use to anyone. With his right hand, he gave Nichols a good punch in the face.

"And I'm never unarmed," he said, pushing Nichols into a house wall, across a bed of rich-smelling flowers. "Too bad you won't have time to appreciate that little lesson."

He plunged the hook into Nichols' stomach and pushed it inwards and upwards until he struck bone. With a last flick, he pulled it back out and shook off the resulting mess.

Nichols gasped for breath. Red foam formed around his lips, and then he went slack against the wall. Hook held him up long enough to find the golden ring in his pocket, before he let the carcass drop in a way that would splatter him as little as possible.

Ariel had stopped cold in the middle of the street, and her cloak couldn't hide the tremble of her hands.

"Sorry you saw that, love," Hook said, walking up to her.

She backed away, shaking her head, and the violent motion caused the cloak to fall back and reveal her disgusted face.

"You can't..." He halted his steps. "You can't think I would hurt you, Ariel. That man was trying to trick me. I don't take well to people who do that. But you're quite safe with me."

He held up his arms to show good faith, which somewhat misfired as her eyes focused on his hook, still dripping blood. With an impatient sigh, he got his handkerchief out and wiped off the stains. "There. All better."

She shook her head again, and he silently damned this stubborn aversion to violence, so unlike the man-eating nature of her kin.

"Ariel. You've never been my prisoner, and you're still not. If you want to leave, you can leave, but if you leave alone, at this hour, with nowhere to go, you _will _be in danger, and not from me. Just give it until tomorrow, at least."

Her eyes darted this way and that, but then she seemed to come to some sort of decision, and turned to leave, going back to the street from where she'd come. While her stride was swift as always, she didn't run or in any way leave him behind. By the time they returned to the bar, they were side by side, yet miles apart.

The conversation stopped when they entered the bar, and Hook held up the golden ring in triumph, to the joyous cheer of the pirates. If anyone of them noticed that Ariel slipped off to have an animated chat with the bar matron, they didn't let it show, though Hook himself found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

A pint of beer made it easier, as did the glass of rum that followed, and soon he was sharing in the festive mood, celebrating the fact that they were finally, after more than three weeks, going back home.

The local minstrel struck up a tune. He was nothing special, and the song was nothing special either, but somehow, the atmosphere changed.

Ariel strode through the room, not yet dancing, but every toss of her hips making a promise of the dance to come. Near the back wall, she stepped up on an empty chair, then the table, putting herself in full sight of everyone. She spread one arm out to the side, then the other, and started the dance.

This wasn't like the prince's wedding. That had been a thing of beauty, to be admired and applauded. This bypassed the brain and the eyes, aiming straight for something much lower. _Don't you want me?_ the dance asked, the twirls and bends and stretched-out limbs. _This is all you've ever wanted. This is the depths of the sea and the heights of the sky, and it will be the death of you, but you just don't care._

Hook became uncomfortably aware of his own physical reaction. The men had fallen quiet, eyes on the performance. Even Teynte was leaning forward, mouth agape. The tension was palpable, and Hook wondered if this was Ariel's way of proving that she could handle any danger that came her way. If so, he wasn't so sure she could.

But the dancing changed. Now it said, _How dare you want me? Who are you, to want me? You are nothing of value. You have done nothing of value. All you are good for is wasting your money in this bar. Spend it. Spend all of it, and forget your sorrows while you can. I am done with you._

Ariel stilled, and the music, after a few uncertain notes, stopped. For a few long seconds, the silence spread.

"More beer!" someone called, and this was followed by calls from every corner: "Here too!" "Bring me a bottle of wine!"

As the bar matron started running between the tables, Hook sat back, stunned.

"That was the song of the siren," Teynte said. "In dance form! I've never seen anything like it! Only time I've ever even heard a siren was from afar. You've seen them, haven't you? Are they always like this?"

Hook ignored the questions. "How the _hell_ did the prince ever resist her?"

Teynte's slap on the back of his head caught his attention.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot. You don't do that sort of thing to someone you love!"

"I would," he said. To evoke that kind of reaction in a lover, he'd do it again and again.

"That's because you're a damned knave. It wouldn't be real, then."

Ariel had sat down by the door, resting her feet in front of her. Despite their appreciation for her performance, people were giving her a wide berth, and so it was easy for someone who knew what they were looking for to see the darker stains near the soles of her red shoes.

Hook rose, abruptly, and approached her. "That was quite a performance."

She gave a tiny bow of thanks.

"I can't help but suspect it was for my benefit."

Shaking her head, she pointed at the bar matron.

"For hers? But why?"

The hands spread out, then turned palm down, firmly.

"You want to stay here? To work as a dancer?" In a lower voice, he said, "Your feet are bleeding again."

She shrugged.

"So that's it, then?" To his surprise, he found that his disappointment wasn't for the reward that he'd already more or less given up hope on. "Dance for your money, in red shoes that hide the blood? I don't know what to say. I don't want you to leave. I could apologize for what happened tonight, but... it would happen again. Just like what I did to the prince, I would do again. Piracy isn't pretty. Maybe you're right to leave if that's not for you. This is a nice enough bar, in a nice enough town, and you're one hell of a dancer. But Ariel, are you _sure_?"

She nodded, touching her own chest and his to indicate that she would miss him. Before he could answer, she continued, showing the battles and death, shaking her head firmly. That, she would not miss.

"I'll miss you too," he said quietly. "I'll come back tomorrow, to ask again. Let you sleep on it."

Though she seemed ready to protest, she nodded again, and pressed her lips against his hand. Figuring he had nothing left to lose, he leaned in and kissed her, a soft meeting of lips that was over almost as fast as it had started. Her hand flew up to her mouth, and the expression she gave him was a mix of many different emotions that finally settled on a shaky smile, before she turned and walked away.

When he'd returned to the table, he told Teynte, "If you had any money involved in all this, you might as well collect."

"I think Cecco came closest," she said. "I actually thought it'd take longer." She drained her glass, gave him a sympathetic grimace, and said, "Sorry, Captain. You still can't have Andie, though."

"How about both of you together?"

"Never doing _that_ again."

"Oh, well," he said, pulling his glass closer. At least the bar served some high-quality beer.

In the morning, he came back to talk to Ariel, yet returned to the ship within the same hour, alone.

The crew opened the portal to Neverland, squeezed the ship through without losing more than a couple of masts, and no pirate of the Jolly Roger was ever seen on those shores again.


	3. Chapter 3

Storybrooke was a bizarre place, Hook thought. That their whole world seemed to rely on complicated machines with no apparent power source, well, that was one thing. But the streets were so well-kept, and clean, and even the ugliest houses had sturdy walls and finely cut glass windows.

This was a _rich_ world, and it seemed to have no clue of that fact. There were items here that he could most likely make a fortune from, back home. All he had to do was figure out what would work across the portal – and pesky little details like get his revenge on the Dark One, evade a couple of irate princesses, and stop Cora from having his head once she realized that he wasn't following her plan.

In all fairness, her plan was deluded. Even his very brief acquaintance with Queen Regina had been enough to tell him that she wouldn't be welcoming her mother back with open arms. Whatever Cora might tell herself, this was unlikely to end in any other way than a full-strength magic battle.

A large, spotted dog ran this way and that on the other side of the street, followed on the other end of a leash by a ginger bloke who took great hopping strides to keep up. Hook raised his eyebrows as the dog stopped to shit on the street and the man used a small black bag to pick up the dogshit and throw it in a barrel.

"Do they do the same with wildlife and cattle?" he mused.

"What are you talking about?" Cora asked.

"The dogshit in the barrel." It would take a lot of barrels to make room for all kinds of animal excrement. And what was done with it afterwards? Could it be used for building, or burning, as he had heard was done in some areas?

"_Would_ you concentrate?"

"I am concentrating," he said. "I'm just curious. Doesn't this place raise your curiosity at all?"

"No," she said, looking about ready to shove a fist down his throat. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters, except my reunion with Regina."

Her single-mindedness was admirable, in a way, but he couldn't help being distracted by the multicoloured signs. "Hardware and paint" was easy enough to understand, as was "bread", obviously, but "diner" must presumably mean place to dine, not a person dining, and wasn't "real estate" a bit of a tautology? Who'd knowingly buy unreal estate? And that didn't even cover the obscure references such as "electronics" or "we have wifi."

Seeing the pawnbroker's sign sticking out from a pale blue house, he stumbled, eyes focused on those four letters, which combined one of his favourite things with the one true hatred in his life.

"Hook!" Cora called. She snapped her fingers, and a branch from a nearby tree fell into her hands. An instant later, it was blazing with fire.

"Take this to the library with the bell tower, and set the door on fire. Regina has established a magical node there, and the poor girl might try to use it against me before I can convince her of my forgiveness. Reconvene with me by the bakery afterwards."

"Your wish is my command," he said, accepted the tree branch, and started walking off towards the library. Having reached a corner, he looked around, and found Cora still on the same street, and so instead of going back, he went around the block, coming out on the other side of the pawnbroker shop, near the entrance but still hidden from the main street.

The assorted bric-a-brac lying in the window might seem like junk, but he recognized at least three of the things as magical artefacts. Seemed like Rumpelstiltskin was gathering up as much power as he could muster. Well, good. That kind of desperation to stay on top was a sign of fear, and fear was a weakness that could be exploited.

Hook wasn't going to go in there half-cocked and attempt his revenge at that very moment, of course, but there was no harm in doing a little reconnaissance.

A strong gust of magic slammed him against the wall, causing the branch to fall out of his hand and flare up at his feet, which made the leather of his boots crackle in a very disconcerting manner.

"I gave you a very specific mission," Cora said, stepping around the corner to face him. "This was not a part of it."

"I'll get right to it," he promised. "This was just a minor detour."

"Don't bother. I had a feeling you wouldn't be reliable, enough to make some contingency plans. I'll give you just what you want: a little one-on-one with Mr. Rumpelstiltskin."

She raised her hands, and the branch shot into the air, spreading out flames into a cage that encompassed Hook and spread its tendrils into the wall. Though the flames did not come close enough to burn, the heat made Hook press backwards as far as he could, sweat pouring down his face.

Someone came out of the store and called, "What in damnation...?" The voice drifted off, and hissed, _"You."_

Hook blinked the sweat out of his eyes and sneered at Rumpelstiltskin. While the fire distorted the view, he could see that the demon's nature was now almost entirely hidden behind a human face. There was even a cane, but despite all that, there was no mistaking him for the meek little man who had earned Milah's contempt. His face was grim and his posture fearless. This was someone who not only wielded a lot of power, but had wielded it for a long time, enough to get used to it and wear it like a second set of clothes.

Enough, perhaps, to be helpless without it.

"Did you think I would not find you?" Hook asked, his voice steady at the thought of the ways he'd like to take his vengeance for Milah's heart crushed into dust. But would he get a chance to? Cora's magic was strong, and if she and Rumpelstiltskin worked together, he might not have much to use against them. He'd have to trust Cora's longing for her daughter to be stronger than her desire to see him hurt.

"I suppose I expected you to, perhaps, be a touch more menacing," Rumpelstiltskin said, circling the cage. "Instead it seems you're more pathetic every time I see you." Tearing his gaze away from Hook, he turned to Cora. "Hello, Cora. After all that's gone down, I wouldn't have expected you to turn up with a present."

"I'm afraid it's not so much a present as it is a bribe," she said. "You have interfered with my relationship with my daughter too many times before. I'd appreciate it if you did not, this time. Stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours. Is that clear?"

Rumpelstiltskin bowed. "Of course, milady. I shall be quite occupied with this morsel."

Hook tilted his head further back and sighed. As irritating as it was to listen to the two of them, and as badly as he wanted to break free, this conversation was a _good_ thing. It meant that Cora would be out of his hair – which was starting to frizzle, now – soon enough, and then there was only Rumpelstiltskin to deal with.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Goodbye, Hook. Too bad you never did get your priorities in order."

As Cora left, Rumpelstiltskin leaned in, bending the flames away in order to growl into Hook's ear: "And here you are again. The pirate, the fighter, the bully, tied up and helpless, at my mercy. I wonder, should I nip off some more of you, for good measure, or should I just finish you off and be done with it?"

Little flickers of flame were starting to sneak in, burning through Hook's clothes into his skin, but Hook could feel the shift in magic, away from Cora as she lost interest and let Rumpelstiltskin take over. All he had to do was wait until her attention was entirely elsewhere – if he moved too soon, she'd soon reinforce her grip.

"I have such a hard time making decisions," Rumpelstiltskin mused. "Maybe I should just rip out your heart and keep it for a rainy day. Have you on my leash like a good little doggie."

His fingers hovered over Hook's heart, and Hook closed his eyes, willing for that fierce magic he couldn't counter to wear off, to leave way to...

There. There was his moment, and just as Rumpelstiltskin's nails scraped against his shirt, Hook lifted his hand up, gripped the other man's wrist, wrenched it away and pushed it out of the cage. The flames flickered and died, and Hook, singed and sweaty but free, could see clearly and take delight in the stunned expression on his enemy's face.

"What?" he asked, hand still held up. "Did you think I would come here without any sort of protection?"

Rumpelstiltskin stared at the tattoo, now visible against naked skin. "That's just a drawing!" he hissed. "How could it..."

"How could it be used to counter even the Dark One?" Hook asked, with disdain. "You tell me, demon. What power is stronger than yours? You were kind enough to leave me her body, our kisses still on her lips." Only his rage kept his voice from breaking as he continued, "A few hard-to-procure items from the merfolk, a press-ganged fairy, a gifted artist... you know, the usual. All bound together by love. You and all your magic can't touch me now. So the question is, what parts will _you_ keep?"

He longed so much to plunge his hook in and rip that vile creature's guts out, but as powerful as the magic on the tattoo was, it was still purely protective, and he could no more damage Rumpelstiltskin than vice versa. In the end, he had to settle for a shove into the wall.

As Hook walked off, he kept expecting a new attack from Rumpelstiltskin, but none came. Maybe it had something to do with the brunette who at that moment came out of a store and gave them a long, searching look before hurrying off. Ah, yes, the captive maid, that might explain it. Either way, it was both a relief and a disappointment. Even though he knew that he couldn't win a duel at this time, he still yearned for one with all his being. He could almost hear Milah's laughing voice in his head saying, "To hell with it, let's go in and kick their arses!" but he didn't have the luxury of listening to that, if he wanted to succeed.

Since his plan could not yet come into fruition, and he had lost all desire to help Cora, he was a bit unsure of what to do next. In the end, he patted out the last bits of smoke from his clothes, wincing at the touch of sore skin below, and slowed down his pace to properly experience his surroundings.

There was a rather interesting window with peculiar clothes, and he stopped by it, wondering if the long black coat would be worth the effort of breaking the glass, when the air cracked with thunder, a smell of sulphur spreading through the town. Poor Cora, straight into the magic battle. Hook winced and shook his head. He started to walk off in the other direction, when he noticed a glimpse of two familiar figures running down the street. One of them carried a bow, the other some sort of small musket. He turned and smirked, as they saw him and slowed to a halt.

"Why, you made it back after all!"

"No thanks to you," Emma said, she and Snow giving him twin glares. "Where is she?"

"Cora? Off to finish her business with her daughter. Our agreement," he added sarcastically, "has come to an end."

"Switching sides _again_, Hook?"

"She switched on me," he said, "as did you, if you remember."

Emma had the decency to look guilty, but it was soon replaced with suspicion. "Why do you smell like a bonfire?"

"Because you set my soul on fire," he said with a wink.

"We don't have time for this," Snow interrupted. "We need to find out where Cora went."

Another crack of thunder and lightning made them all turn their heads.

"Over there?" Hook suggested.

Emma had gone pale. "What if Henry..."

He followed the two women as they moved on, in the absence of anything better to do. Snow spun around and stepped in close.

"Listen, Hook, if you do anything to screw us over again, I will have your guts for garters, is that clear?"

That was a bit rich, considering what her daughter had put him through. His voice was cold as he replied, "For your information, Cora just handed me over to Rumpelstiltskin with a 'you're welcome,' so to the extent that I have any stakes in this at all, they're certainly not on her side. Anyway, aren't you the ones in a hurry?"

People were beginning to come out of their houses, one by one, and wander down the street in the same direction as the three of them. At first there were only a few, but more and more joined, until they had to slow down their pace not to bump into anyone.

"What the hell's going on?" Emma asked.

Hook waved a hand in the face of a small, stout man, who didn't react at all. "They're controlled from afar. Your Regina must have their hearts. Charming lass. Takes after her mother, eh?"

"How do you know they're not Cora's?"

"They're Storybrooke people, aren't they? They have your kind of clothes."

"Emma, I _know_ some of these people!" Snow said, distressed. "So do you. Look, there's Beth from the supermarket! They're not usually like this."

"No, they wouldn't be," Hook said, "unless she wanted them to be. She's using them somehow, to gain power." He bowed to the man in front of him. "Carry on, sir."

"Hook!" Emma snapped. "You can't just let her do this!"

"Why not? If she gains enough power, maybe she'll win. You do want her to win, right? If you want Cora to win, I should probably head off in the other direction."

There was a call of "Emma!" from further along the street, and when they stopped and turned, they saw a little boy and a blond young man running over to them.

"Do you know what's happening?" the man asked. "Who are all these people?"

Snow automatically moved in closer and touched his arm. "Regina is controlling their hearts."

He paled at that and looked around. "Is Kathryn..."

"She doesn't have Kathryn's heart."

"Oh, God," Emma said. "I do. In evidence. What a mess!"

"Why is she doing this?" the boy asked.

There were now enough heartless drones that ordinary people had started to notice and come out of their homes, to see what was going on. Though maybe the intermittent thunder had something to do with that, too. Some followed with the crowd, but most remained with one or two drones and tried to shake them back to attention.

"To defeat Cora," Hook said in reply to the question. Both man and boy turned to look at him, and he gave them a quick smile. "Hello. I'm Hook."

"_Captain_ Hook?" the boy breathed, and both his voice and face were so like Emma's at that moment that there was no doubt this was the famous Henry.

"My reputation precedes me, even here? How marvellous."

"Don't talk to him," Emma snapped.

"Cora made it through?" the man asked.

Emma sighed. "And so did this jerk. Henry, go back home – to the apartment, I mean. Or to the diner. This could get dangerous. David, are you armed?"

The man – David – nodded and patted his jacked. One of the drones, a skinny middle-aged woman, bumped into Emma, which sent them all walking again.

"I'm not leaving," Henry protested. "She's my mom, it's my house, you can't just send me off like some kid."

He pushed through the crowd, and he was small enough that he was several bodies ahead before the others could stop him. Emma hurried along, Snow and her prince followed Emma, and Hook followed them all.

Soon they made it to the well-kept garden of a white mansion, with glazing-bar windows that still showed flashes of lightning at irregular intervals. The drones, one by one, walked up to the door and stepped inside. Emma rushed up to the door as well, but was thrown back by an invisible barrier into Hook's arms.

"Easy now," he said. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment."

She pulled loose and gave him a glare that was mirrored in both of her parents' faces. He smirked at the sight, but a figure a few yards ahead distracted him from the thought. A long, red braid brushing against a well-shaped behind, and yes, that was nice enough, but it really wasn't cause to...

His eyes slid down to the graceful legs and impossibly light steps.

Those _steps_.

"Ariel," he mumbled, and then ran up to her, shouting, "Ariel!"

When he spun her around, she looked up at him with blue, startled eyes, definitely aware of her surroundings, and he sighed in relief.

"For a moment there, I thought you were one of them. Got to say, glad you're not."

She stared at him in incomprehension for a moment, and he had time to realize that maybe she didn't even remember him, and that if she _did_ remember him, it might not be fondly, after the way they had parted. Then her eyes fell on his hook, and her expression brightened.

"Right," he said. "You were on my ship, for a while there."

It had been, what, twenty or thirty years? Counting the curse, of course, it would be closer to sixty, and yet Ariel looked much the same as when they'd first met, with only a bit more maturity in the shape of her face and the way she carried herself. It seemed that even in human form, she still aged like a mermaid.

Holding up a finger to make him wait, she dug in her handbag and fished out a small tablet that she tapped at with her fingertips.

The tablet spoke, and said, in a pleasant, female voice, _"What are you doing here? What's going on?"_

This development was so unexpected that Hook couldn't help but to stop and marvel at it. "And they said there was little magic in this world! Oh, sorry. Goings-on. There is a big magic battle in there, I am a little bit more involved in it than I should like, and, oh." He gestured vaguely towards the others, who were coming up to them. "These are the heroes of the tale."

She gave him the kind of amused smile and nod that informed him she was very aware of this fact.

"Hook," Emma said, "would you focus?"

"You bring your whole family along for the occasion, would you give me a minute to say hello to an old friend?"

"Friend," she said sarcastically.

"Yes, friend. I have friends. I am a very friendly man, I'll have you know."

"Hi, Miss Preston," Henry said.

"Amanda," Snow said. "Do you know any of those poor people?"

Ariel shook her head and signed that she'd just been looking.

"Miss Preston, and Amanda," Hook sighed. "Are people still calling you by the wrong names?"

"_We were cursed. No one knew better."_ Ariel turned to Snow and asked, _"Is there anything I can do to help?"_

"I don't know..."

Snow raised her eyebrows towards Emma, who looked dubious, but Henry told her, "It's okay, we know her from school. She's the little mermaid. The little mermaid is good, remember?"

Hearing a child of Henry's size refer to Ariel as "little" was a bit strange, but Emma seemed reluctantly convinced.

"Maybe," she said. "I don't even know if there's anything _we_ can do to help."

"We have to help!" Henry protested. "That's my mom in there!"

"Aren't you his mom?" Hook asked Emma.

"It's complicated. Anyway, Henry, we can't even get inside. Only the heartless people seem able to get past the barrier. And I'm not even sure we should help her, considering what she's doing to them."

"I don't suppose you still dance?" Hook asked Ariel, remembering the effect she'd had in that Wuncey bar, many years ago.

She knew what he was referring to, and shook her head. _"There's no magic in this place."_

A new crack of thunder made the ground shake beneath their feet. He laughed.

"I'd say there's magic, all right."

Ariel craned her neck and looked around, but made a grimace, tapping at her chest to indicate that the drones had no hearts and couldn't be affected.

"Regina has their hearts," Hook said. "Could you give the power to her, through them?"

Ariel bit her lip and looked over to the others for confirmation.

"I don't know," Emma said. "I think I'd rather have Regina than Cora, all things considered. If there's anything you can do, just give it a try."

With a shrug, Ariel tapped something into her tablet, which now started playing music. She put the tablet down in the bag, the bag on the ground, and started to move.

At first, it was just a dance, accompanied by a whole orchestra and two singing ladies in a little bag, which was magic enough on its own, but not in a way that could be any use of them. Ariel was skilful and agile, but only as much as any human performer that you could see on any stage and give your money.

Then the magic kicked in, and over the foreign language of the singing ladies, the dance began to speak.

"_You are courageous. You are strong. This battle will be your triumph."_

It lasted only for a few minutes, until the tune came to an end and Ariel halted, looking up at the others, asking with her eyes if it had worked. Hook looked around. There was no difference in the drones, that he could tell, though there were few of them left now and the door stood wide open.

"Well, screw that barrier," Emma said. "I'm going in." She called out, "Regina! We're coming to help!"

The call seemed to have come through, because nothing stopped her from going inside, sword brandished. Snow ran in after, arrows ready, then David, with a musket similar to Emma's, and Hook joined them. Even Henry stepped up to do the same, but Ariel hauled him back, putting an arm around his shoulder to keep him outside.

The hall they stepped into was very grand, but filled up with Coras, multiplying, pleading Coras all crowded around Regina in the middle. The drones each caught hold of a Cora, but for each Cora they held, another came into place. They all fired bursts of magic spells to ward the the drones off, while she tried to reason with her daughter. It was impossible to tell the fakes from the real one, and so they all remained still, attempting to find the crack that would reveal the truth.

Regina saw them come in, and raised her head. With a flick of the wrist, she snatched up both muskets, and Hook felt a tug at his arm as his hook started to loosen itself.

"Hey!" he cried and tried to grasp hold of it, but it was too late. All three weapons flew up in the air. The drones, as one, held out their prisoners, and the weapons buzzed through the Coras, one after another, making them flicker slightly at the contact, until one Cora raised her hand and held off the hook just as it was about to pierce her chest.

Without hesitation, Regina struck, the wood from the staircase railing falling down to form a tight structure around the real Cora. Within seconds, the dome was entirely closed, with only a shriek from inside to tell of its captive as it sank through the floor and disappeared.

Regina let out a heavy breath and ran her fingers through her hair. "Nothing like cold iron to diffuse an illusion. Thank you, I suppose."

"Don't put yourself out," Emma said. "Is that it? Is she gone?"

"Not for long, I don't think," Regina said. "But for a while, this should hold her. Who gave me that boost before? It was pretty good."

"That would be Ariel," Hook said. He had picked up his hook from the rubble on the floor and was putting it back in its place. "She stayed out there with the kid."

"Henry!" Regina exclaimed, and left all else behind to rush outside and scoop up Henry in her arms. "Oh, you shouldn't have come!"

As the others stepped out in the garden, they were crowded by people who had now been given their agency back, and were none too pleased to find themselves in this place.

Ariel had been sitting on the ground, but now stood up in one fluid motion and gave Regina a tight smile.

"Miss Preston, isn't it?" Regina said. "Thank you for your assistance. I take it you were the one who did that little trick with the Bizet tune?"

Ariel nodded in a way that was almost a bow, to acknowledge the thanks, and picked up her tablet to write: _"I have to get back to the school. Will you be all right?"_

Though the question might have been aimed at anyone, she was looking at Snow, who nodded. "Go ahead. Tell them I'm running a bit late."

"You should get back to school too, Henry," Regina said. "Lunch hour is already over."

"Not until I know everything's okay here!"

As they argued over that, Ariel stepped up to Hook. With a small, self-filling pen, she wrote a list of numbers on his hand, and gave him a goodbye wave before she left.

Hook stared at his hand, puzzled. "What on earth does that mean?"

"It means call her," Emma said. "Or, text her, I guess. So, friends, huh?"

The obscurity of Emma's statement was less vital than the tone in which it had been given. Hook gave her a pointed glance. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing," she said, a touch too quickly. "My only concern with you is what the hell we're supposed to do with you, now that you're here. Because I got to tell you, I'm pretty tempted just to throw your ass in jail."


	4. Chapter 4

Temptation aside, neither hero had the time to arrest Hook, since they had to sit down in Regina's sitting-room and quarrel about the ethics of heart-keeping. Henry, meanwhile, was making impassioned pleas that had both his mothers looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'm telling you," Regina said, "I can't put them back! I'm sorry, but there are so many of them, I have no idea which heart goes into which body. Those people are all on their way back to their lives, and I won't call upon them again. Not unless it's an emergency."

"That's not good enough," Emma said.

"I'm sorry, it's going to have to be."

"Can't be that hard," Hook mused, helping himself to the bottle of whiskey in the liquor cabinet. "You hold up a heart, call its owner, stick it back in, hold up another, call _that_ owner... It would take bloody forever, but it's not difficult."

Henry lit up. "Could you do that, Mom?"

"Captain," Regina said, barely containing her rage, "I don't take advice from my mother's lackey, and the only reason your head is not currently on my mantelpiece is because your little paramour was of some use back there. Now put that bottle back!"

Hook poured himself a glass and put back the bottle. "She's not my paramour," he said and took a mouthful of whiskey, enjoying the fine taste of it. Nothing but the best for the queen. Putting the glass down, he looked at the numbers on his hand. "What's 'texting'?"

"Mom?" Henry repeated. "Could you do that?"

"Sending a text message, on the phone," David said in reply to Hook's question. His tone was short; he'd clearly taken his impression of Hook from the women of his family.

Regina sighed. "I suppose... I could, at that."

"Brilliant!"

Hook thought that it was quite foolish of the queen to give in so easily, even if he had been the one to suggest it, but he had other things on his mind right now. "So how do I go about sending one of these messages?"

"_Really_, Hook?" Emma snapped. "You think this is the time and place? We're not some dating service for you to arrange meetings with other women."

He raised his eyebrows. "_Other_ women?"

"You know what I mean."

"I think I do, yes."

She scoffed at his suggestive tone and turned away, her attention back on Regina, who tightened her lips and went to put on a jacket.

"All right," Hook said, "you won't help me with the texting. How about the... what did you call it, phoney? How do I get one of those?"

"You can use mine," Henry said, still beaming at the fact that he'd made Regina relent.

"Henry, don't let him use anything of yours," Emma said.

"Why not? I told you, Miss Preston's nice. Her extracurriculars are really popular. You should have seen the show she put on for summer break. And she taught me how to swim!"

"All the more reason for her to stay away from him, then."

"I won't hurt her," Hook said, annoyed.

"She did write those numbers," Henry said. "She wants him to make the next move."

And so, while they all walked through town to Regina's secret vault of hearts, Henry showed Hook a device called a cell phone, and explained how to make a call on one, and how to send a text message.

"So what do you want to say?" Henry asked. "Ask her out for coffee?"

"What's coffee?"

"A drink. Not an alcoholic drink. A hot beverage. Friends like to drink it together."

"Sounds perfect."

"Great! 'Wanna have coffee?' Signed, Hook."

"No, no," Hook protested as Henry started typing in the words. "That's no way to address a lady. You have to make it more elegant. 'Should you care to accompany me for some coffee this evening?'"

"Really?" Emma said, making a grimace.

"Miss Swan, if this attitude is due to some desire on your part for me to take _you_ out for coffee..."

"Trust me, there's no such desire. Henry, stop doing that!"

"You've got to save words, with a text," Henry explained. "Oh! I got a reply. 'Working til 7. Dinner?'"

Emma was just about to reply to that when Snow intervened. "Henry, this man is not your friend. He ripped a girl's heart out and used her as a puppet to spy on us."

Henry stopped short, and his smile died away. Meanwhile Regina looked distinctly uncomfortable, which Hook thought she rightly should, considering their current circumstances.

Hook shrugged. "You got it back. Now, Henry, if you would please send Ariel my confirmation... no? Very well, then I will."

He snatched the phone from Henry's hand and managed to punch in a "y-e-s" before Regina, with a gust of magic, sent him flying against a tree.

"Do not steal from my son!" she snarled.

The phone twitched in his hand, and he hurried to hit the "send" button – at least he hoped it was the right one – just as it jerked away from him and back to Henry.

Meanwhile, both Emma and David had raised their weapons, and Snow had an arrow ready at her bow.

"Okay, Hook," Emma said. "That's enough. Get out of here."

"What, for playing with his toy for a few seconds?"

"I don't have time for your shit right now. You're in Storybrooke, as you wanted, and I'm guessing there's a limited amount of harm you can do without Cora, so go. Get lost."

Regina let him down with a thump, and he straightened his collar. "I seem to recall a time when you didn't want to take your eyes off me."

"I prioritize getting you the hell away from my son. Go do... whatever, just don't do it here. Oh, and Hook? If you cause any trouble, be it revenge-related or otherwise, I _will_ have you arrested."

"I'll be happy to help," Regina said.

Hook raised his arms. "Very well, have it your way. Your Majesty, enjoy your little heart-chickens coming home to roost."

* * *

The sun was high in the sky, making it one, maybe two in the afternoon, unless sunlight was very different here from the other realms he had visited. Plenty of time to go exploring.

The woods outside town were dense, and offered many a secluded spot. Hook picked a hollow under a cliff to set up his spell, weaving the twigs, threads and feathers in an intricate pattern, just like the bird catcher had taught him, and finished with the words of concealment. Watching the spell sink into invisibility, he nodded to himself; this spell had been worth its considerable price, and should it work, he would have been willing to pay twice as much.

He brushed the dirt off his trousers and contemplated the state of his clothing, which was abysmal. That would have to change. Using the sun as a guide, he left the woods and returned to town, finding the street with the nice coat in the shop window. With a quick slam of his hook, he knocked out the window and grabbed the coat.

A loud alarm went off, and people started shouting. Hook, working from instinct, darted around the corner and then slowed down to a stroll again. He took off his ruined jacket and threw it into one of the dogshit-barrels, donning the new coat instead. Apart from being a bit too long in the sleeves, it fit very well, and he gave an approving glance at the nearest window reflection.

He would need more than clothes to get by in this world, though. A grey-haired man in a smart suit was coming down the street, in enough of a rush to be an ideal target. Hook made sure to be in his path, quite deliberately bumping into him. The man, by reflex, touched his chest. An inner pocket, then.

"I'm so sorry," Hook said with a smile and a tiny bow. "It is entirely my fault; I should have been watching where I was going."

The man looked a bit flustered by the smile, despite his commanding presence, which indicated that this would be even easier than imagined.

"That's quite all right."

"Tell me, I am new in this town. Which way is the school?"

"You're _new_ in town?" This seemed to surprise the man a lot more than it should. "Well, how about that! Where did you come from?"

"Oh, you wouldn't have heard of it. The school?"

"It's that way, about a mile. Turn left by the roundabout, and you can't miss it."

"That way?" Hook pointed with his hook, and as the man's eyes followed the gesture, gave him a friendly pat on the chest. Leaning in further, with full eye contact, he said, "The townspeople here are so kind, I've been made to feel so very welcome."

"I... I'm glad."

Hook waited until the man was out of sight, and then hauled out the flat leather pouch he'd taken from the pocket. Its contents were mostly strips of paper and strange rectangular bits of... something, but some of the strips had numbers written on them and might be promissory notes of some kind. An extra compartment, which turned out to open through pulling a little piece of metal, contained some coins, but they appeared to be counterfeit, containing no valuable metal. Still, since the man had protected it by instinct, something in there had to be worth something, even if Hook couldn't see what.

A few basic needs were making themselves known. Hook took care of one of them right there, to the stares of some passers-by, and in order to take care of the other, he returned to the previously found dining place.

In his time, Hook had seen a great many beautiful girls, but the brunette serving food still made him stop and take in the view – not only due to her physical assets, but what she had chosen to sheath them in. Or not sheath them. Fashion in this realm had its definite upsides. He'd seen pixies with more material in their clothes.

"Hi, can I help you?" she said as she saw him enter.

Turning his appreciative glance from her exposed midriff to her face, he handed her the leather pouch and said, "Absolutely. Take what you need from this, and bring me a good meal. A filling, savoury, delicious meal. Can you do that?"

Her eyes were on his mouth, and she swallowed hard. "Sure," she said. "Be just a minute."

As he waited for his meal, she returned with the pouch and said, "Here you are. I'm getting you the hamburger, is that okay?"

"If that's your choice, it's bound to be perfect."

Her hand went up to her neck in a very telling manner. "I haven't seen you here before, have I?"

"No, I'm new in town."

"Really? Where from?"

The surprise made him frown. "You don't get many strangers here, do you?"

"No, we... really don't. What's your name?"

"Killian. What's yours?"

"Red. Well, some people call me Ruby."

"Ruby," he said, smiling. "That's a suitable name for a precious gem."

A grim-looking older lady came out of the kitchen area. "I did what you asked," she told Red. "Slice some more tomatoes, would you?"

Both women returned inside, and soon thereafter, Red returned with his hamburger, which turned out to be a beef patty inside a bun, surrounded by strange yellow strips that tasted surprisingly good. There were two different kinds of sauces, which made the whole thing a little messy to eat, but he couldn't argue with the end result.

Someone slid into the chair next to him and gave a sigh that made him quench a smile even before he turned and recognized Emma.

"What did I tell you a couple of hours ago?" she asked him.

"To stay away from your son?" he suggested. "Which I have."

"To stay out of trouble. Since then, I've had a call about a break-in at a clothes store, done by some guy holding a hook."

"'Holding' is not quite an accurate choice of verb, I'd say."

"Public urination, again, guy with a hook. And now you're buying a meal with stolen money."

"Who says it's stolen?"

"Oh, Ruby!" Emma called, and as the other woman came out of the kitchen to the counter: "Hi. Do you have the credit card?"

Red handed over one of the little rectangles, and Emma pursed her lips looking at it.

"Mitchell Herman," she said. "Mm. That's not you."

"Perhaps I purchased it from the gentleman in question."

"Nice try, but you can't buy someone's credit card. Come on, Hook, you're under arrest."

She took a pair of handcuffs from her pocket and fastened one end around his right wrist, with the other around her own left one.

"Just couldn't wait to get me in chains again, could you?" he remarked. "I must admit, being shackled to you is much nicer than being shackled in a giant's lair."

"Hook, if you don't _shut up_, I'm really going to reconsider my views on police brutality."

He clicked his tongue, but followed without further comment. Things might not be going as planned, but there were several hours left before he had any place to be; plenty of time to convince her to let him go.

* * *

Once she had closed the cell door behind him, he sat down on the bunk, resting his chin on his fist as he watched her intently.

"All right, Swan, what's the punishment?"

"Why are you doing this stuff?" she asked, sitting down at her desk. "It can't possibly help your vengeance any. It's just random mayhem."

"Nothing random about it. I needed a change of clothes, and some food."

"What about the peeing in the street?"

"Where else would I do it? There wasn't a privy in sight."

Emma looked about ready to say something, then shook her head.

"Shouldn't I be charged with something?" he asked pointedly.

"I thought you were here for vengeance," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "What happened with that?"

"It'll take a while," he admitted. "He's got his magic back."

"What's a while?"

"I don't know. A few weeks?" It could take longer than that, but that was a thought he'd rather not consider. Even that amount of time would give Rumpelstiltskin more chances to prepare an attack than Hook was comfortable with.

"And during those few weeks you'll – what? Steal everything you need?"

"Well, there aren't any ships to plunder."

"You could sell some of that stuff you're wearing."

Hook's hand flew to his necklaces in a protective gesture. "Oh, I'd hate that."

"That earring, for instance."

She had a good eye for fine jewels, and despite himself, he grinned. What he wouldn't give to have her on his crew, treacherous creature that she was. Something about her headstrong approach to life wasn't entirely unlike Milah. "That's for my funeral. Which I had intended to postpone for a little while yet. Anyway, who would I sell things to? The pawnbroker is _him_."

"I could sell them for you," she offered, "if you don't want to deal with him."

Her innocence was breath-taking. It would take some getting used to, this world and its blindness to magic. "I don't want him to gain power over me by owning something of mine."

"Oh. Right." She thought for a while, then said, "So, here's the deal. I let you out of here, and you get yourself a job. I could talk to Ruby, see if they need someone doing the dishes at the diner."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. It's unqualified manual labour, anyone can pull it... oh." Her face took on an expression he always hated to see, especially on a beautiful woman. "You can't, can you?"

"Emma." He stood up and leaned against the bars, voice low and controlled. "Let me make one thing very clear to you. I can do whatever I set my mind to do. But I am nobody's grunt."

"Fine." She approached the cell, standing close enough that he could see every eyelash framing those gorgeous eyes. "Go to the unemployment agency, see what they suggest. Then _take_ the damned job, whatever it is. I'll loan you some money to get by until the first payment."

The idea was ludicrous, but there was no harm in agreeing. Once he was out, he could do as he pleased. "Very well."

"And I want collateral. To make sure you do as you're told."

Her mind worked so much like his that he had to love it, despite the trouble she caused him. "What did you have in mind?"

"The hook."

"No."

"That's what it takes."

"Why does everyone and their aunt think they have a right to my hook?" he asked, exasperated. "It's _mine_. I don't go around dismembering you at will. And don't bring up Aurora! You can have the earring."

She scoffed. "Nice try."

"Like I said, if Rumpelstiltskin gets hold of it, he gains power over me. That's a damned fine sword to dangle over my head, sweetheart."

She pondered that for a few seconds, and then held out her hand. When he had undone his earring and dropped it in her palm, she went over to a cabinet and locked it in before returning to open the cell.

"All right, a few basic rules," she said as she let him out. "One, you'll get a job. Two, you'll stay out of trouble. Three, that includes no murdering anyone."

"What?" He'd found the list semi-amusing up to that point, but at this he stopped short and glared at Emma, who appeared to be dead serious. "You _know_ why I'm here."

"Yes, and I'm sheriff of this town. I can't let you out there to kill someone. Not even Gold."

"And you thought of that only now, did you?" he asked, struggling to keep down his rage. "Not when I first mentioned it. Not when you were oh so sympathetic over lost love. Not even five minutes ago, before you asked for collateral. Tell me, sheriff, did it occur to you that he's a murderer too?"

"I'm not going to let this town succumb to vigilantism," she said. "I owe that much to..." She bit her lip. "The citizens. Listen, if there's a way you can bring him down without breaking the law, I won't stop you. Lord knows Gold's been pulling some pretty shady shit. Just don't kill anyone."

He had really believed that she understood. The worst of it was, he rather thought she _did_ understand, and that she was just so caught up in this role of hers that she couldn't go with her natural instincts. It was his own fault, for forgetting how very far she was from being on his side.

The easiest thing, of course, would have been to kill her and take the earring back, but he couldn't do that – didn't even want to, despite his anger.

"I'll give it some thought," he said. "Otherwise, I suppose you'll see me back here soon enough. Anything else?"

"Just one thing. Come with me."

She took him past the office and opened a door leading to a cramped-up space with white shining décor.

"The bathroom."

He frowned. "Where's the bath?"

"There isn't one. Some bathrooms have them, others don't. That's not the point. The point is, toilet. You lift the lid, do what you need to do, put _down_ the lid, and pull this. Water comes down, flushes everything away. Then you wash your hands, over here. Water pressure, hot, cold. Whenever you get the urge to relieve yourself in the street, you go inside, and ask for a bathroom instead. Any questions?"

As advanced as the bathroom was, the basic use of it was still quite simple, which left only one question of note. "What time is it?"

"Three fifteen. Plenty of time to get some better clothes – _legally_ – and go over to the unemployment agency."

It was also plenty of time to follow Emma's wishes and still find Ariel before seven o'clock. He sighed. "Very well. I suppose I'll be on my way."


	5. Chapter 5

By the time he had left the unemployment agency and reached the school, it was already closed. A far too cheerful servant in blue shapeless clothes showed him to the music room, and when that turned out to be empty, drew him a map to the indoor pool a few streets away.

This turned out to be akin to a public bath house, with a metal cross by the entrance, and an attendant who tried very hard to get him to pay a fee and buy a pair of ridiculous underwear to go swimming in.

"It's not that I don't appreciate your attempt to get me out of my clothes," he said, "but I'm really just here to see a girl. Ginger mute, about fifty... sorry, twenty-five. Have you seen her?"

"Oh, Amanda!" she said. "She gets off in about half an hour. You're welcome to wait here... or if it's important, I could call her over."

At his nod and smile, she called into a little stick: "Amanda Preston to the register."

It was a peculiar way of getting hold of someone, but it seemed to work, because soon thereafter, Ariel showed up from a side door, in a tight-fitting elbows-to-knees outfit that made him raise his eyebrows. She grinned at the sight of him and waved him over, using a rectangle much like the cards he'd stolen to open the door.

There were women in there wearing even less than Ariel, but she walked straight past them to a large bath where twenty or so children were bobbing about in the water. A sallow, muscular man came up to the two of them, and Ariel gave him a brief nod and a shy smile, before going off on a series of gestures.

"Sorry," Hook said, "I don't quite..."

"She says, 'It's very nice to see you again,'" the man said. "'I'll just finish this class and then we can head off. Do you have a place in mind? Otherwise, I have some favourites.'"

Hook frowned at him. "And you are?"

Ariel grinned and caught his gaze, indicating herself, then the man, who kept speaking:

"Ivan is my interpreter while I'm here."

"Oh. Right," Hook said Whispering in her ear, he asked, "Will he come with us tonight?"

She laughed, and replied through Ivan, _"No, I have my iPhone. I just don't like to keep it around the water."_

"iPhone?"

_"The thing you saw me writing on."_

The tablet would be a lot less intrusive than a whole human being, even though Hook didn't find it too hard to dismiss the other man as just a voice belonging to someone else. Focusing his attention on Ariel became even easier when he realized just what was different about her compared to all those years ago, and he caught her chin in his hand.

"You got your tongue back."

She nodded and curled it into a U that she stretched out to him. _"Still mute, though,"_ she added with a grimace. _"I guess things just needed to be tweaked differently for this realm. Can't complain; it helps with eating."_

"And kissing," he pointed out.

Her blush and the under-the-eyelashes glance she threw at Ivan weren't lost on Hook. Clearly something had been going on there, though the man's face was expressionless as he passed on her message:_"Quite right."_

"Miss Preston!" one of the children said, dripping water onto the floor. "I did the dive! Did you see it?"

"_Sorry, got to work,"_ she told him hurriedly and got back to her students, who were so clumsy in the water they'd need some serious lessons before they drowned themselves. At least the strange puffs some of them wore around their arms seemed to hold them up.

Hook sat down and waited for her to finish, taking wry pleasure in the strange situation of a mermaid helping humans to stay afloat. She had a lot more patience with the little brats than he would have, and it was fun to watch, for a while, but then his attention drifted to the more shapely bathers in the deep pool.

Thus he barely noticed the sharp whistle calling for end of class, and not at all Ariel's soft steps approaching, until she stood by the terrace, head tilted and Ivan by her side.

"_If you've finished perving on pretty girls, I'm ready to go."_

"What's 'perving'?" he asked, though the gist of it was clear enough.

She gave him an exaggerated expression of brainless desire that would have been insulting if it hadn't been so comical.

"I don't do that."

Even Ivan stifled a smile at that, and Ariel rolled her eyes, before giving Ivan a final set of signs that weren't translated.

"What was that?" Hook asked.

"Just, 'Thank you, Ivan, I'll take it from here,'" Ivan said. His smile was a bit tight and his voice strained as he added, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, he walked off, leaving Ariel and Hook in bashful silence. After a beat, she smiled and nodded for Hook to come along to a corridor close to where they'd gone through previously. She opened one of the doors for Hook without actually stepping through it herself.

"Well, where are you going?" he asked, and she pointed towards another door, with a stick figure drawn upon it.

"Can't I come too?"

That was very clearly an outrageous question, because she pushed him out the door with mild force and closed it in his face.

There were similar symbols further down the corridor, he noted. Two separate stick figures, one of them in... ah yes, a skirt. He'd asked entrance to the women's section, and he couldn't really blame Ariel for not realizing he'd done so accidentally.

She didn't seem upset when she reappeared, fully dressed and with the tablet – iPhone – already in her hand.

"Hello again," he said, straightening from the slouch he'd allowed himself.

"_What do you say to sushi?"_ she asked through the iPhone.

He blinked. "Who's Sushi?"

"_Sushi. The food. Do you want some? You do know what sushi is, don't you?"_

"Can't say I do." Did any type of food in this realm have names that corresponded to what it actually contained? At least the hamburger had been tasty enough.

"_It's raw fish and rice."_

That made him laugh. "I should have expected as much, from a mermaid. Very well, it can't be worse than the fermented fish of Niflheimr. Ever tried that? Downright disgusting, it is."

She shook her head and gave him a quizzical look.

"Yes, well, when you're hungry enough..." He opened the door for her, and they stepped out in the street.

Three carriages went by in quick succession, and though they were several feet away as they passed, Hook still eyed them suspiciously. They were a touch too fast for anything on dry land, and the way the driver was hidden away behind glass made them appear more like some sort of steely monsters than mere vehicles.

"What propels them, anyway?" he asked out loud, annoyed by his own reaction.

Ariel stopped short, staring at him. Though the artificial voice held its usual pleasant levelness, her face showed shock and disbelief as she said, _"You're new here. You didn't come with the rest of us."_

"No, I only just arrived," he said.

"_How did you..."_ She paused and hovered with her fingers over the tablet, which stopped speaking. Instead, she continued with a different sentence: _"Why would you come here?"_

"I have some unfinished business to attend to with an old enemy." He hoped she wouldn't ask any more questions, or this dinner might be over before it had even started, much like that night in Wuncey. If she was still as soft-hearted as she had shown herself back then, wooing her would be a special kind of challenge. Still, he had succeeded with that sort of thing before, on occasion, and in any case, he could use the distraction.

She didn't ask, instead returning to his own question. _"They're fuelled by gasoline, in a combustion engine. Does that make sense to you?"_

"The heat from the burning makes them go," he said. "Like an Atlantean aeolipile?" At her evident incomprehension, he explained, "A ball, rotated by jets of steam. It's just a toy, though I hear they've been using similar methods in certain organs."

She wiggled her hand to indicate _so-so_ and wrote, _"Something like that."_

Conversation was laborious, since more complex replies from her took her attention away from the traffic to her iPhone, and so for most of the walk to get dinner, they stuck to topics where her contributions could be expressed through simple gestures. Once in the inn – or Japanese restaurant, as the sign outside declared – she placed the iPhone on the left side of the table and gave an exaggerated sigh of relief before tapping into it: _"This must be so confusing for you."_

He shrugged. "It's curious, more than anything. How do the street lights work?"

"_Electricity."_

"What's that?"

She hesitated, then wrote, with a grimace that showed the phrase was approximate, _"Channelled lightning."_

"Sounds dangerous."

"_Only if you stick your hand into it."_

"I'll make sure not to do that, then."

The food arrived, and it was all very dainty, with the fish rolls stylishly displayed and soup in a small decorated bowl by the side. A proper picture of civilized etiquette, like a miniature version of that royal wedding, in the early hours before the liquor kicked in.

Biting down on his smile, he picked up his chopsticks and tried to recall the proper position for them, the way Soeng had shown him all those years ago.

"_Do you know how to use those? Otherwise, you could use your fingers, or ask for a fork."_

"One of my crewmen taught me," he said, and slid them both into place. "There. I knew I remembered. And table forks? Oh my. It seems I must be on my best behaviour."

Had there been table forks at that wedding? It was so long ago, he couldn't remember. What he did remember was his father's disdain for them as "southern affectation", but then, his father was centuries dead, and not only times but worlds had changed since then.

The food was quite good, though you had to eat a lot of it to get full. He dutifully followed Ariel's orders to dip each roll in sauce and use only a little of the green stuff, and he developed a particular fondness for the gingers.

Ariel made full use of the fact that she could eat with one hand and converse with the other, asking, _"How many of your crew members live here, anyway?"_

"I don't know," he said, feeling a pang of loss for the people he'd left behind when he joined Cora. "All of them, I suppose. Why, have you seen any?"

"_I have seen the posh one,"_ she replied, making her face long and grave in a fine impression of Starkey. _"He's an accountant. Does the school's taxes."_

"Really?" Hook could have use of Starkey, he'd always been a reliable first mate. Then again, accountancy seemed so right up Starkey's alley that he might not even be willing to return to piracy. "Anyone else?"

"_The big black one."_

"Bilal." A good pirate, who could definitely come in handy, should the need arise.

"_Right. I've seen him at the supermarket a couple of times. He's hard to miss."_

"I should look him up, then. That's it? No more pirates?"

She thought about it, then shrugged. _"I don't know. I can't remember them very well."_

"Right," he said, letting out an involuntary sigh. There was no reason she should remember; it had all happened a long time ago, and the faces that were etched into his memory would only be a vague blur in hers.

Looking down, she wrote, slowly, _"I've seen Erik and Elaine."_

Those names told him nothing, which she must have realized, because she continued:

"_The prince and princess."_

"Oh. That would have been awkward. What happened?"

Her frown was almost imperceptible, but her discomfort was not. _"Nothing, really. It was before the curse broke, so I didn't know them. They showed up at the school with their kid, and it really made me sad, though I couldn't tell why."_

"Hm." Even though Cora had double-crossed him in the end, she had still done him a favour by protecting him from that curse. He couldn't imagine what kind of feelings would have arisen if he had encountered Rumpelstiltskin and been capable of killing him, yet not known why he should.

Shaking those thoughts away, he returned to the romantic track: "What of you and Ivan? Is there something going on there?"

"_He's married, as it turns out."_

"'As it turns out?'"

Her wry face was fairly telling, though she assured him, _"It's okay. I'm over him."_ With astute perception, she returned the question: _"What of you and Sheriff Swan?"_

"That flame died before it burned," he lied.

Their eyes met in understanding of each other's insincerity, and she raised her glass in a silent toast, which he met. They each emptied their glass, and put them down at the same time.

Ariel finished her last roll, wiped her mouth, pushed the plate aside and asked, _"Do you want to come over to my place?"_

There was no mistaking her intention, and Hook was momentarily surprised, though he shouldn't have been. She'd had plenty of time to lose her innocence, and she was a mermaid, after all.

That thought did bring some concerns to mind, and he asked, "Is this where you drown me and eat my flesh?"

"_Nah,"_ she replied. _"Just plain old seduction."_

He smiled. "I could go for that."

* * *

Coming over to Ariel's place involved first a ride in one of those carriages. A carriage ride would normally have provided opportunity for an introductory kiss or two, but in this iron one she was busy driving, and he was far too distracted by the various gears and instruments that kept the thing going. Then, they stepped together into a small, windowless room, which, again, would have suggested certain activities, had he not been startled by the room suddenly moving upwards. By the time she unlocked the door and stepped inside, Hook was so exhausted from all the new experiences that, when she pressed a button on the wall and lights flooded the room, he didn't even think before pressing the same button, returning to the dark.

"Let's just..." he said, unable to even articulate his thoughts, and she laughed silently in his ear, kissing his jawline.

Still kissing, they made their way through a hallway that, judging by the way she navigated it, seemed quite cluttered, and landed in the bedroom. The bed, at least, was a regular bed, though it bounced in a disturbing manner when they sat down.

Hook took off Ariel's blouse with practised ease and saw that she had no bodice underneath, only some form of breast band. She guided his hand to her back, where he found the clasp and quickly undid it, while sliding off the shoulder straps with his hook. Such a practical, simple garment – and with a rewarding sight underneath.

"Hello," he sad, tugging at one of the little silver rings. "Not as fancy as pearl markings, but a beautiful treat nevertheless." Letting his mouth brush her breast, he curled his tongue around the ring, and she closed her eyes, her hands still moving to rid him of his shirt.

Then something seemed to strike her, and she opened her eyes again, pulling back a little. In the dusk, her face was hard to read, but the suspicious stance was clear enough, as she pointed from his eyes to her breasts, to ask when he had ever seen them.

"Ah, yes," he said. "That first day, in the storm, I saw the edges of the markings, and knowing what I know about mermaids, it raised my interest. So I took a look."

Her face twisted in disgust and she gave him a light, chastising smack over the back of his head.

"Yes, yes, I know," he said. "But it can't have delayed your rescue more than five seconds, at the most, and I did it to find out who I was dealing with, not to ogle your breasts. Which are lovely breasts, by the way."

With that, he bowed down to kiss the other breast, and despite the exasperated sigh she gave him, it only took a couple of seconds for her to decide he was forgiven. She pulled his trousers down, and he started on her skirt, when she did something that truly puzzled him – she reached over into her bedside table drawer and took out a very small square, which she ripped open to reveal an even flimsier circle inside.

He blinked. "What...?"

Holding up a hand - _"Wait"_ - she stuck the circle in her mouth and knelt down on the floor. Using her mouth, she unrolled a thin film of some strange material onto his cock, and he shuddered in pleasure at the sensation. Though he had heard tell of similar precautionary measures taken, it had never been an issue in Neverland. He wondered what other tricks the mermaid had in her bag, and then winced as he recalled the more carnivorous traditions of her kind. It would be a very unfortunate time for her to return to them.

Instead, she returned to the bed once the item was on, no harm done, and he laid her down gently on her mattress. Slowly, he ran his hook down her belly and teased at the insides of her thighs, but before he lay down, he unscrewed the hook and left it on the table, for safety.

As he positioned himself on top of her, she instantly froze, and he paused, puzzled. It was not the first time he had faced such a reaction from an inexperienced maiden, but Ariel was clearly no virgin and had seemed very enthusiastic up to that point, so the sudden fear was jarring.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded and raised her head to kiss his lips, but when he moved back on top of her,letting her take some of his weight, she froze again and a shadow of a wince flew over her face.

Not fear. Pain. Once he realized that, the solution was simple. Grasping her around the waist, he rolled over on his back, which put her on top.

"Better?" he asked, and she smiled in relief, kissing him hard before she spread her legs and carefully sidled herself down upon him.

Grasping her hips, he thrust, hard, feeling the end of her braid tickle his thigh as she arched her back.

As poorly as this day had started, it was turning into a lovely night.

* * *

In the early hours before dawn, Hook left Ariel sleeping in her bed, put on his clothes, and headed for the woods. The sky was overcast, making it more difficult to navigate, but he tried to follow the road they had travelled in the evening, and made it back into town just as the black of night made way for a deep blue. The walk had taken longer than he anticipated, and once he was hidden from sight in the woods, he broke into a run, reaching his trap just as the sun rose.

The trap was hidden, even from him, but the tests he'd been taught showed him that everything was in place; he just hadn't caught anything.

"Come on, you useless sack of feathers," he muttered. "Don't make me wait another three hundred years." That damned bird catcher had been blind drunk when he sold his trick; maybe it didn't even work right. Or maybe it really would take the full five hundred years, despite the man's insistence that the time-frame could be shortened.

With nothing better to do, Hook returned to town. He had meant to stay on his ship for a while and then head off to that ridiculous work placement the woman at the agency had suggested, but at the "Granny's Diner" sign he changed his mind and stepped inside, grinning at the sight of the bored brunette behind the counter.

"Do you work around the clock?" he asked.

"Just taking an extra shift," she said and automatically returned his grin, angling herself to give him a better view. "There are hardly ever any... hey. It's you." Her face grew serious. "I don't have to call the sheriff again, do I?"

"You didn't have to do it the first time," he told her sweetly. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I came to repay you for yesterday. Honest money, this time."

He took some paper bills out of his pocket and chose a number of them, estimating just enough above the right amount to cause some consternation at his generosity. It was a tried and true method to make anyone forgive and forget a debt, and it worked just as well this time. Red looked at the bills, blinked, and slid them back across the counter.

"It's okay," she said. "Emma paid for the meal."

"Oh, but I must give you something for your trouble," he said, holding her gaze.

"You could have breakfast here," she suggested.

Breakfast was not a habit he usually indulged in, but cultivating this acquaintance might be worth it. "I'd be delighted." He attempted to return the money to her, but her hand closed over his, and she counted out a suitable number.

"Emma warned me about you," she said pointedly.

"Hm." He smirked. "I can't imagine why."

With a snort of amused derision, she stepped out from behind the counter, and he followed her shapely form to a table in the corner. There were only a few other guests: a pinched-faced man was reading a printed paper at one small table, while at another a young couple were sharing a plate of food. None of them paid him any attention.

"Here you are," Ruby said. "What can I get you?"

"Just some bread and cheese, please. Oh, and..." His smile widened and hardened. "Anything you can tell me about Mr. Gold."

The young couple ceased their flirtation and raised their heads, and before the reading man's face, his paper trembled. Well. It seemed this was a prime spot for more information.

* * *

Hook spent the rest of the day at the dull job he'd been forced to take, and endured it by imagining new, detailed tortures for his time of vengeance. Night was falling by the time he made his way back to the Jolly Roger. When he saw a dark figure moving about on the deck, his immediate reaction was to reach for his sword, until he came closer and the figure turned, revealing a halo of blonde hair in the moonlight.

"Sheriff Swan," he called as he stepped on board, taking his hand from the hilt. "I do believe this counts as trespassing."

"You don't have a permit to anchor here," she said. "So strictly speaking, I'm inspecting an illegally parked vehicle."

"Another one of your rules?" he said. If she meant to drag him off to that jail cell again, he'd have to strike her unconscious and desert the ship, he supposed. The only other alternative was to kill her, and that would be an awful pity.

Without a word, she reached into her inner pocket and took out a printed paper that she handed to him. While he read it, she fished out a pen.

"Sign it, I'll stamp it, and you're fine," she said.

The language, while convoluted in the way of lawyers, held no mysteries, and though he examined the paper carefully, he could find no evidence of any hidden messages or other tampering.

"Very well," he said, smoothed the paper out against the gunwale and signed it with his full name and finest handwriting. "Why this sudden gesture of generosity?"

"I talked to Hattie Underhill at the unemployment agency. You actually did show up for work today." There was a hint of colour on her cheeks that might be a flush, or else just a shadow. "So you're making an effort to fit in, and that deserves... well, a break."

"Are you trying to apologise?" he asked sweetly in her ear.

She drew back, offended. "Apologise? You tried to kill me!"

"I didn't try very hard. Anyway, you were trying to stop me from coming here. I couldn't have that."

"You were working with Cora, against us."

"What choice did I have, after you chained me up?" He still couldn't keep the venom out of his voice for that part. It was the kind of fickle betrayal that would have meant nothing to him coming from Cora or her daughter, but somehow, with Emma, it _mattered_.

"And you asked me why I didn't trust you!? You lied to us, and you were accessory to the murder of those people..."

"After the fact, not during. And you almost had me eaten by ogres for that one."

"And then there's Aurora..."

"I gave the damned heart back," he said, biting off each word.

"Only because it took Mulán out of the battle."

"That featured into it, yes."

"You only ever do the right thing if it's no harm to you."

"And that is such a staggering difference to your high morality, I'm sure." It took some effort to quench his anger, and even more to quench the desire. "Don't punish _me_ for what you can't stand in yourself, Princess."

Her eyes were focused on his mouth, and even as her frown deepened, she bit her lip, but then she turned away. "You don't even _know_ me."

"Am I wrong, then?"

She ran her hand along the wooden planks, and changed the subject. "This ship is yours, right? Just like the earring. So couldn't Gold make use of that?"

"It's my ship, to be sure," he said, relaxing his stance a little, "but it's also the home of my crew. If Rumpelstiltskin tries something like, say, a tracking spell, he'll be going off in twenty different directions at once."

"What about personal items?" she challenged.

"There aren't any. I've cleared the captain's cabin, and anything I need, I carry with me. Except the earring, which you have."

"Change of clothes?"

"I threw the burned ones away. If Rumpelstiltskin wants to dig through bags of dogshit to find them, he's welcome to it. I dare say the humiliation would make up for any harm he might cause."

"You don't have a change of clothes," she said with a distaste that surprised him. "Have you even washed _yourself_ since... no, of course not. You're a pirate from fairy tale land. Bathing is probably against your religion. That explains why you still smell of fire."

Her assumptions were quite insulting, but also so bizarre that it made him chortle. "Are you saying I'm dirty?"

"Yeah!"

There was only one way to respond to that. Hook promptly shed his new coat and tossed his shirt in the sea, before starting to take off his boots.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emma asked.

"You wanted me to wash, and I will," he said. With the boots off, he started on the new trousers, which were of fairly stiff cloth but more loose-fitting than his old ones. Emma had been staring straight at him so far, but as he pulled down the metallic fastening, she whipped her head away as if the sight stung.

"Are you trying to embarrass me?" she asked.

"That's definitely a factor," he agreed, kicked off his trousers, and unstrapped the sleeve that held his hook. Letting it fall to the deck, he stepped up to the side of the boat, threw in a rope ladder, then dived in.

The water was cold enough to steal his breath for a second, but he'd had worse, and as he started swimming for his shirt, some of the warmth returned to the body, and he felt invigorated, laughing at the waves. This tame little port was nothing like the open sea, but the salty smell was like perfume to him, and the sensation of water against his body unlike any other. If he had been Ariel, neither love nor riches could have ripped him away from the sea.

He reached the shirt and scrubbed it enthusiastically, and then himself, before returning to the ship. As he climbed up the ladder, his skin, which had grown somewhat accustomed to the cold of the water, now reminded him of the temperature, and he hurried to pull his trousers back on.

Emma had been inspecting the hook straps and the way the sleeve connected to the sheath, but she let the contraption fall to the deck and gave him a quick glance, which became more relaxed when she saw that he was dressing again.

"Tempted to steal it after all?" he asked.

"No, it's just... so elaborate. I would have thought it'd strap around your wrist."

"That would be an excellent way to get gangrene," he said and stuck his arm in the sleeve, fastening everything in place. Bypassing the shirt, he put the jacket on directly against the skin and squeezed the shirt semi-dry. Normally, he'd have thrown it over a hawser and left it there overnight, but all things considered he thought he'd better take it under deck, and so he put it over his shoulder instead.

"That's your idea of washing?" she asked flatly.

"It is, yes," he said.

"It's salt water," she pointed out. "And you're going to need more clothes eventually."

"Well, here's a thought," he said. "Make a list of everything I will _need_ in this Storybrooke to satisfy your desires, and I'll do my very best to follow it."

"I..." She blinked. "Maybe I will."

"Good."

"You're being awfully accommodating. About the job, too. Don't tell me you enjoy it?"

"Peddling telephones over the telephone, thus encouraging people to get the one thing I am certain they do not need? The idea is amusing, the actual work is not. Still, it permits me to brush up on my skills of persuasion. Perhaps one day, it'll allow me to persuade _you_ that I'm not your enemy."

"That will be the day," Emma said. She shook her head slowly, eyes fixed on his. "You're lying about something. I just can't tell what."

"Oh, well," he said. "Let me know if you figure it out."


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't, strictly speaking, a lie at all. The work was dull, and the opportunity to practice persuasion was useful – but of course, it wasn't the primary benefit. That rather was the mission statement in itself: to call up people from a long list and introduce himself.

Most of the callers chose lists with out-of-town names. Now that the curse had been broken, the citizens of Storybrooke had high hopes of returning to the Enchanted Forest, and little incentive to buy new items that only worked in this realm. Hook, on the other hand, asked specifically to make the local calls. Despite his fleeting acquaintance with the product he was selling, he managed to convince a considerable number of people to commit to the purchase, which impressed the manager and led him further down the list to his actual goal.

"Killian?" one of the customers said near mid-shift on the second day. "Hook?"

"Yes, indeed," Hook said, enjoying the sweet taste of success. "Who am I talking to?"

"It's me. Soeng."

"Soeng! Well, what do you know? I was just thinking about you the other day. So, how are you? What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, the usual landlubber stuff. Family, work. I have a liquor store on Juniper street."

"Sounds wonderful. Listen, what would you say to meeting up? I have some progress with my crocodile mission, but it's going to take a while, and it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for all eventualities."

The manager, hearing this, walked by and grumbled, "Stick to the script."

"Am I not productive enough for you, _pasture-man_?" Hook asked him.

"It's Will Shepherd, in this realm," the manager said, his small stature rigid with irritation. "And stick to the script! No personal calls."

"All right," Hook said, circling Soeng's number on the list. "Soeng, I'll get back to you on that. Now, I'd like to ask some questions concerning your telephone habits..."

By the end of that day he had two more numbers circled, with the names "Lily" and "Jukes". On the next day, his shift didn't start until the afternoon, which gave him all morning to take action, and so he made way for the school once again.

The feel of the place was entirely different this early in the day. Children of all ages bustled everywhere around the brick buildings, the younger ones chasing each other across the playground, while the older ones slouched at the staircase before the grand doors that marked the main entrance. The ones too old to even properly be called children bid their younger siblings goodbye and headed off in yet another direction, by car or foot or one of those mechanical bicycles. Certain details – the bored look of a half-grown girl, a boy leaning down to help his little sister with her shoelaces – brought echoes of Hook's own school days, but this was a more unruly crowd, like a happier bunch of Lost Boys, and he liked it.

Moving past the crowd of young bodies like tacking through the winds, he entered the corridor above the stairs and walked up to the music room, where he had more luck than last time. Ariel was alone inside, adding rosin to a horsehair bow. She kept doing that as he entered, though she raised her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of him.

"Hello," he said. "Thank you for last time."

A sly smile appeared on her lips, and she gave a small nod to thank him in return.

"I have a favour to ask," he said. "Actually, two. Do you know Starkey's current name and address?"

She thought about that, then put the bow down so she could take her phone and reply, _"His name is Porter. First name Martin or Marvin, I can't remember. I don't have his address, but the school secretary must. Do you want me to contact her?"_

"Please."

She typed something into her phone, and when she was done, she made circles with her finger to indicate waiting for a reply.

"Okay."

She held up two fingers.

"Ah, yes. I need to borrow your phone to make a few calls, if I may."

After a moment's hesitation, she handed over the phone, but hovered over him as if she were afraid he would break it, which admittedly seemed to be a distinct possibility. Though her device carried the same basic name of "phone" as the one he operated in his new line of work, and the one he had borrowed from Henry, it was different from both. Her part of the conversation was still visible in the centre, and when he put both phone and list on the table and started pressing in the numbers, he got letters instead, with peculiar suggestions on which words he might want to use.

"How do I get to the actual calls?" he asked, and she showed him, remaining by his side as he dialled the numbers.

His conversation with Soeng was quick and of little interest to Ariel, while the one he had with Lily made her look at him intently, as if she could see some of their history in his face. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but probably couldn't keep the warmth out of his voice.

Jukes' monotonous voice told Hook to leave a message, which he did. He then returned the phone to Ariel, who with a few clicks returned it to its previous function.

"_Were you setting up dates?"_

"What?" he asked, not sure what her question was referring to, though her meaningful glance gave him a hint. "I am trying to gather my crew." Of course, 'crew' wasn't the right word to use about Lily, but it was easier not to get into all that.

Her face softened at that, and she told him, _"Next time I see your friend Bilal in the supermarket, I'll let him know you're here."_

"I appreciate that." If there were more of his crew on the lists, and if the manager remained as annoyingly strict as he had so far, Hook would need to use Ariel's phone again, and so he asked, "Can I make it up to you? Take you out on some fun?"

She gestured towards the corridor and typed in, _"I have to work. Morning class is cancelled, but I have a chamber ensemble in forty-five minutes."_

"Forty-five minutes is not a long time," he admitted and gave her a quick kiss, adding, "Enough for some of this."

With a warning look, she pointed towards the door and windows.

"So proper!" he lamented, rolling his eyes.

Since he did not yet have the reply concerning Starkey's address, he couldn't leave, and without the promise of physical gratification, he had to think of something else to occupy himself. The open case lying over a chair raised his curiosity.

"Is this your instrument?" he asked and lifted the fiddle.

From the way she immediately stepped up to his side, it evidently was, and she was even more protective of it than of her phone. He couldn't blame her. While he was far from an expert in the field, he could tell that the fiddle was of exquisite workmanship, with a sleek form and, when he tried his hook on a string, a pleasant sound.

She winced at the sight, and he laughed.

"All right, all right," he said, putting the instrument back in its case again. It was good to see that some things were more or less the same in this world. Many of the instruments lying about the room were foreign to him, and for some he couldn't even guess the function.

A long, black board contained black and white keys in familiar shapes, and he asked, "Is this a harpsichord? How does it work?" Trying the keys, he could get no sound out.

Ariel pressed a small button on the left of the board, and part of it lit up with peculiar words, the only ones he could recognise being "rhythm section." Pressing a few more buttons, the word "harpsichord" showed up, and she motioned for him to try again.

It had been many years since he last played, but he tried out one of his childhood melodies, one he had learned so early that it still remained in body memory. The sound was different from a regular harpsichord, and the keys much softer to press down, but the tune was still recognisable.

"No need to look so surprised," he said, amused by her expression. "My mother arranged lessons for me. I think she held some hope that I would choose a more peaceful career than the Navy. I was such a disappointment to her." His voice was kept light, and to his surprise, his heart was too. That hadn't always been the case where his mother was concerned.

As he continued the tune, Ariel reached out to try the left-hand accompaniment. Having her so close was a nice sensation, but she dragged so hopelessly behind that he tutted her.

"I swear I could do it better myself! Are you sure you're a music teacher?"

With an irritated scoff, she stepped back from the instrument and picked up her own fiddle instead, setting off on a melody so quick that her fingers fair flew across the board.

"Very good!" he admitted. "Do you know any sea shanties?"

She was just about to reply when her phone made a sound, and she handed it over to him. 'Marvin Porter' the text said, followed by a street address.

Well, that was that, really. His mission was accomplished, and he might as well leave. Manners aside, though, he was starting to enjoy this endeavour. Perhaps it was foolish of him to want to strike up a friendship – after all, it would serve as ammunition for Rumpelstiltskin against him. Still, it had been much too long since he'd had anyone around who was neither indebted to him, nor inclined to double-cross him. Ariel had been soothing company, back in the day. She might still be.

Rather than leaving, he merely memorized the street name, returned the phone, and asked, "So, sea shanties?"

In reply, she started on a dramatic tune that seemed familiar, yet no words came to mind until she reached the chorus.

"Oh!" he said, and sang, "_On a stormy night, you'll hear it, someone calling, 'Hey! Ho!' O'er the years you'll learn to fear it, beckoning from below. 'Hey! Ho! Hey! Ho!'_ Quite a haunting tale, that one. I'm glad to say I've never heard Charlie Theodore call me yet. But then, I've never drowned."

The implications of what he'd said struck him, and he gave her a curious glance, but she only shrugged and shook her head – no, she hadn't heard it either.

Bringing the fiddle back under her cheek, she started a new tune. This one was much jauntier, and he knew it right away, though the lyrics only came to him in bits and pieces.

"The dogfish!" he said, recalling the song that had been a great pleasure to him in his youth whenever he was at odds with his family. "'_The naughtiest dogfish in the sea, he bit his little brothers_... hmm hmm... _You're a naughty little fish, and your mother is to blame. Freddy, said his mother, it makes me very sad, if your father was a better fish you mightn't be so bad._' I always liked that dogfish."

Ariel's body shook so hard with laughter she had to stop playing, and Hook sang some more bits and pieces of the verses he remembered.

A knock on the door broke them off, and it was followed by a smallish boy lugging a huge instrument case.

"Am I early?" he asked. "Can I set up the cello?"

Ariel waved him inside and put her fiddle down to answer, _"You're not early at all. The Captain and I were just killing time."_

"Oh, is that what we were doing?" Hook asked lightly. The interruption had broken the careless sense of joy, and he already itched to have it back. "Listen, I seem to have made myself unavailable for tonight, but if you'd like to kill some more time, perhaps we could meet tomorrow."

"_I can't. Saturday?"_

"Even better – I'm free Saturday. Shall I come over to your place by noon, make it a full day?"

Her smile spread slowly from the corners of her mouth to her entire face, and she nodded.

"I can leave again," the boy said.

"No need," said Hook. "I'll be on my way."

* * *

The afternoon shift gave Hook the numbers to Mullins and Cecco, and he was starting to wonder if perhaps he himself should make use of the offer he was peddling; if he bought his own phone he wouldn't have to wait to make the calls. If the promises he spouted to customers were true, though, personal phones seemed a nuisance to operate, and beyond that, he was always wary of a product that required too much talking to get sold. What he needed was a local he could trust to give him a few pointers.

Alternatively, he could just rip the guts out of that mealy-faced little goblin of a manager and make the call from work, but that would bring about the wrong sort of attention.

In the evening, he left the call centre, glad to see the back of it, and proceeded to Granny's diner, where he immediately spotted Lily's long, beautiful face through a window. Stepping inside, he saw that the rest of her appearance had changed: her trousers and jacket were of a sleek cut that resembled most of all how prosperous men dressed in this world. They were a fine match to the haughty look she gave him upon entrance, though the effect was spoilt by the hint of a smile in her eyes. Though the two of them had hardly ever been on the same side of any battle, he'd always liked Lily, and the feeling was mutual.

"Hello, Hook," she said.

"Tiger Lily," he said, sliding into the booth. "Lovely as always. Hello, Granny! Another one of those hamburgers, and a pint of beer, please."

"I'm not staying," Lily said.

Hook paused and scrutinized her. She had a cup of some dark liquid in front of her, and was fiddling with it, in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness.

"Hold that order," he said, "and just bring me the beer."

"We only serve low-alcohol," Granny pointed out.

"_Low-alcohol_ – never mind. Whatever. It's fine." He waved her away.

As Granny left, Lily looked up, meeting Hook's gaze straight-on. "I should warn you, Gold has contacted me. He made a couple of offers, and said some more things that I can only interpret as threats."

Perhaps this news shouldn't have stunned him, but it did. It was only natural for the Dark One to make some sort of move, but he hadn't expected it to happen in such a way, at least not at this early stage. Furthermore, Lily's tone told him well enough how she'd responded.

"How would he even know to contact you?" he asked.

"Tiger Lily's not exactly a name that lends itself to anonymity," she said, irritated. "I haven't made my Neverland connections any kind of a secret since we got our memories back. And God knows Captain Hook's infamous around here. How do you think he knew? He read the book, of course, saw the Disney movie or the Mary Martin musical."

Half of that didn't make any sense, so he focused on the parts he did understand. "He knows of that name? Hook?"

"Don't be dense. Who else would you be?"

"There is a book, then, speaking of me by that name. And you are in it, too?"

"A minor part." The hint of a wry smile returned. "You're the main villain."

"Am I?" A part he could play as well as any, he supposed. "And who's the hero? Not _him_."

He suspected the truth, saw it in Lily's cheeky smirk before she even spoke the words: "Peter Pan."

"That brat!?"

At that point, Granny Lucas arrived with the beer, which interrupted the conversation. Once they were left to themselves again, the flare of hurt pride had lain down to simmer, and he returned to more pressing matters.

"I take it then that you won't help me?"

Her face grew stern, and she pressed her lips together before answering, "No. I don't owe you anything; certainly not to stick my head out around Gold."

The answer came as no surprise to him; for all intents and purposes, they were still enemies. "So why come here? Why agree to this meeting?"

"I do have some concept of honour, even if you don't. And we've had far too much fun together for me to want to see you stabbed in the back." She took a sip of her drink. "You're gathering up your crew, yeah? Probably a good idea. You're going to need all the allies you can get. But Gold _owns_ this town. Just because people were loyal to you when you were the big bad of the wild seas, it doesn't mean that loyalty will hold when it comes to standing up against him. Figure out who you can really trust, and who's just a fair-weather friend."

"Like you?"

"Enemy," she pointed out.

"Yeah. Thanks, for the warning."

"You're welcome." She drained her drink, rose from her seat, and held out her hand. He took it, wondering if he was supposed to kiss it, but instead she shook it, firmly. "It was good seeing you. Don't get yourself killed."

"I'll try not to," he said. "Goodbye."

As she stepped out the door, she looked poised and calm as always, but he could tell by the slight shift of relief in her posture that she had been afraid of his wrath.

She was right, though. Technically, they had always been enemies, and he respected her decision, as well as the honesty which with she informed him of it. If she was right about his crew, however... Oh, if any from his crew dared to turn and run at the threat of the Dark One, he would skewer them on his hook before they'd even finished speaking. And that was the problem, wasn't it? They all knew that. If there was a turncoat among them, he wouldn't find out until it was much too late. The rest of them would flog any traitor, of course – at least, if there was only the one. But no, there wouldn't be an outright mutiny. There _couldn't_ be.

Who could he really trust? Starkey, of course. He wasn't so sure that he could get Starkey back to piracy, but he could always trust him to be honest. Teynte too, if only he could find her, and Andie if she was with Teynte, but not necessarily on her own. Smee... Smee was loyal, but none too brave, nor clever. If hard pressed, he might give in, and it wouldn't be too hard to trick him into giving the game away.

Hook realized that he might have to work from the assumption that anyone was a potential traitor, which made any alliance he formed as fragile as the one he'd had with Cora.

During his later appointment with Soeng, as he finally had that hamburger he'd postponed with Lily, he couldn't help weighing the other man up. A good sailor, with impeccable service, and brave enough. Not the first one to jump ship, should it come to that, but not the last one to stay and fight, either. If voices of dissent spread, maybe Soeng too would join them, but he wouldn't commit treason on his own.

Soeng joked around at the idea of Captain Hook as a telephone salesperson, and said, "If you'd rather help out in my liquor store, I'd be happy to have you."

"That does sound more enjoyable," Hook said absent-mindedly, wondering if he could risk it. Well, why not? At least then he wouldn't be beholden to some undersized goblin. All he needed was a few more days, a few more phone numbers to call, and he could leave that stifling square room behind forever. "Very well. It sounds like a good place for headquarters."

He was tempted to pay Starkey a visit too, but decided to leave it for morning and return to the ship instead.

Once again, he saw the silhouette of a figure near the Jolly Roger, and wondered if Emma still had some issue with him. Coming closer, though, he saw that it was a man, and closer still he saw which man, and grinned. Trust or not, some faces were still a comfort to have around.

"Well," he said softly. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Where _was_ the cat, anyway? If everyone on the ship had been taken to Storybrooke, the cat should have been too. And the turtle. The passing thought left a shadow of pain that he brushed away.

Smee stuck his hands in his pockets and offered a weak smile. "Hello, Captain. Gosh, it's good to have you here. And with the Jolly Roger and all." He reached out to stroke the ship like one might a dear horse.

"It's good to be here," Hook said. And though he would once have laughed if anyone had suggested such a thing, he now grabbed Smee by the scruff, pressed a kiss on his forehead, and said, "Welcome home."

* * *

Having Smee back on the ship raised Hook's spirits considerably, and the following day proved even more profitable, bringing him two new crew members from his calls at work, and three more from Starkey.

"It would almost be enough to set sail, now," he said, spread out on Starkey's leather sofa in the well-kept, murky sitting-room. Seeing his first mate's expression, he grinned. "Don't worry, I won't take you away from your bean-counting. It's better with us spread out like this, anyway. Provides the Dark One with less of a target."

"So you still mean to go after him, then," Starkey said and provided them both with glasses of whiskey, putting the decanter on the table.

"Of course." Hook drained his drink at once and poured himself another, watching the liquid swirl in the hexagonal glass. "Now more than ever. I have spoken to people here. He may look different, and act different, but his black heart remains the same and I mean to have it out of his body. But he still has power, and we need to be a power to reckon with as well, if I'm to keep him out of my hair long enough to carry through my plan."

"And what is your plan?"

Hook didn't respond, only raised an eyebrow.

"Not even to me?" Starkey asked, but he was much too well-bred to sound upset about the fact.

"Not just yet, anyway. You'll have to take it on faith, old friend."

Starkey accepted that with a mere shrug. After a pause, he said, "You know, I have served as first mate to the best of my abilities." He continued with what was for him an unusual level of emotion: "But I still wish that it was her in that position, not me. Even after all these years, I can't help feeling that's how it should be."

Hook took another sip of his drink to drown the echo of those feelings in his heart. "Starkey, if anyone had the nerve to kill you in such a devious, underhanded way, I would chase them down to the edges of the world and beyond. I hope you know that. Anyway, if she... if I could have her back, then she could have any position she damned well pleased. She could have mine. It's got nothing to do with you; you're an excellent first mate."

"Thank you, Captain," Starkey said quietly. "I wasn't fishing for compliments."

"I know."

"She was my commanding officer, and, if I may say so, my friend."

Hook drew a deep, shaky breath. "Yes, well, we'll get that rat bastard, finally. Meanwhile, I need to blend into this world, which among other things means rather more personal belongings than I can carry around."

"Do you need money?"

"Money I have. What I need is a safe place to store it, and everything else."

"Here?" Starkey asked, his gaunt face pensive.

"That was my intention. I couldn't help but notice, however, that there seems to be a woman living here..."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Starkey said, revealing a glimmer of gold in his smile. "It's Black Malin."

Hook's jaw dropped at the mention of the most fearsome of pirate captains, a rival even he made sure not to cross in battle. Her flag near any merchant vessel meant no one else should even bother, though her presence on more peaceful occasions could be a source of true pleasure indeed.

"Congratulations," he said at long last. "Does that mean she is... no longer available?"

"It takes a braver man than me to tell Malin what to do," Starkey said, shaking his head in wonder.

"Well, then. My possessions would be in safe hands indeed." Just to make sure, Hook asked, "She is on our side, isn't she?"

"In this particular affair? Most assuredly. Just don't expect her to share any loot."

Hook chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Despite Starkey's assurances, he figured he'd have to keep an eye on Malin's endeavours, but at least it should be safe enough to store his personal items with them. If she were to fight against him, it would be a proper fight; she would never stoop to a coward's dirty tricks.

He finished his next drink as well and asked wistfully, "I don't suppose you've seen Teynte, have you?"

"Can't say I have. Have you tried _The Wood Maiden_?"

"The what?"

"It's a bar. A tavern. Ladies only."

"Teynte's never been that hard a drinker," Hook said, puzzled at the suggestion, but then the meaning of Starkey's glance sank in, and he gave a low whistle. "Ladies only. I see. Thanks for the tip." He poured himself another drink and emptied it in Teynte's honour.

"Are you planning to get yourself drunk?" Starkey asked, his voice devoid of any sort of judgement on the matter.

"Oh yes," Hook replied. "Cars. Phones. Electricity. _Computers_. I _need_ to get drunk. I've needed to get drunk all week, and just haven't ever been in a place where I felt I could."

"Well, Captain, you're more than welcome to do it here."

"Thank you, Starkey," Hook replied, feeling the first soft effects of alcohol set in. "I knew I could rely on you."


	7. Chapter 7

Having fallen asleep on Starkey's comfortable sofa, Hook woke in the morning, blinked against the light, and realized that he'd gotten his hook stuck in the leather. He had time to think of how peeved Starkey would be about this, until the brightness of the room made him realise that something much more important was at stake.

"Oh, _no_," he said and stood up, ignoring the blistering headache that made itself known the moment he started to move.

He rushed out into the hallway and noticed Starkey in the kitchen, pouring water into a kettle.

"Got to go," Hook told him and grabbed his jacket, which he'd flung over the side of a chair the night before, but which was now neatly folded. "Sorry about the sofa. I'll repay you."

He ran down the stairs and through the streets, wondering how hard it would be to learn how to drive a car. Even if he had one, though, he wouldn't be able to drive it in the woods. Surely this world had to have some horses, or something like horses? How else did they travel long distances on bumpy and narrow roads?

The sun was already high in the sky, which meant his speed was of no consequence whatsoever. Still he ran as fast as his feet would carry him to the trap. He was relieved to find everything untouched. If his prey had been caught and he had missed it, he never would have forgiven himself.

He needed a better way to wake up in the mornings, he decided as he slowly made his way to the Jolly Roger, where Smee's snores echoed through the hull. Perhaps he could buy a cockerel. Smee could take care of it, and an animal wasn't property, after all. Or he might buy a clock and set it up at Starkey's – perhaps Starkey even owned a clock already; it would suit his desire for propriety.

After so many years spent outside of time's influence, having to abide by its rules was a damned nuisance. Hook returned to his bunk and fell back asleep, hoping to get his head back together before he was to meet Ariel.

He woke up a couple of times, and looked out through the porthole at the sky each time, to see the position of the sun. When he deemed it high enough and his own head clear enough, he left the Jolly Roger again. Smee was taking down the rigs, with a care that showed how much he had missed the ship. Hook gave him a salute goodbye and headed into town, where he walked slowly through the streets, trying out new pathways to see what else the town had in store for him. So much of it still made no sense, even though it seemed to him that he had done nothing but learn the ways of this world since his arrival.

Finally he made it to Ariel's place and knocked on the door with his hook.

Ariel opened up, waved him inside, and motioned for him to wait. She ducked into the bathroom, and Hook followed her there, leaning against the door frame.

"Am I early?" he asked.

In reply, she shook her head and pointed at herself, giving him an apologetic grimace before she turned her attention to her false eyelashes, which she put in with meticulous care. Though he wouldn't have deemed them necessary, they did frame her eyes nicely, and the hue of paint that she then chose for her lips served well to complement them.

"You have a lot of things in there," he said, referring to the cabinet behind her looking glass. He took out some bottles and packages, reading their descriptions. A lot of the words were nonsense to him, but he understood that most of the items had to do with hair in one way or another, though there were also bottles for face, body, and hands. "Is this magic or just vanity? No wonder you're prettier than ever."

She slapped at his hand, but he snatched out another small vial which rattled with pills, and had time to read the words 'chronic pain management' before she took it back.

"I'll grant you that one," he said, somewhat sheepishly.

Her reflection in the looking glass smiled at him, and she finished her make-up, but took a small black pen out of the cabinet, turning towards him.

"What?" he asked, suspicious of her expression, and she removed the cap from the pen, raising it to his eyes and drawing, with an expert hand, black lines along the lashes.

"Very nice," he said, admiring his reflection over her shoulder. "Better than my usual, even. Thank you."

They returned to the hallway, and she picked up her phone from the table, telling him, _"You have your little vanities, I have mine. In this world, long hair doesn't just take care of itself."_

"Duly noted."

"_Have you eaten?"_

"No, I was waiting for you. You haven't eaten either, have you? Good! So what say you, should we go out? Granny's, perhaps?"

Ariel's wince at the suggestion surprised him. Even his short time in Storybrooke had been enough for him to learn that Granny's was the spot everyone gravitated to, despite the lack of good liquors.

"You don't like Granny's?" he asked.

"_I do,"_ she replied, and paused to put on her coat before continuing, _"but so does everyone else. Including my father, and my sisters."_

For some reason, he had never stopped to consider the thought that the curse would also have taken her family, or that she would be reunited with them. The old ideas of remuneration returned to his mind unbidden, and he asked, "Don't you want to see them? Or is it that you don't want them to see _me_?"

Slowly, she locked her front door and put the key in her bag, going down the stairs.

"_It's complicated,"_ she told him. _"They don't approve of my choices."_

"What choices?" he asked. "Becoming human? But they're human too, now, aren't they? It seems a frightful pity for you to still be estranged from them, after such a long forced absence."

The hypocrisy inherent in that statement was a bit rich, even for him, considering how things had fared with his own family, and he could hear the false note in his voice.

So, evidently, could she, because she gave him an odd look and, after a pause, asked, _"That day we met, you knew who I was right from the start, didn't you?"_

"That you were a mermaid? Yes, I did."

They stepped out of the building, and with her back to the street she pointed to her breasts and gave him a meaningful glance.

"Oh. That you were a princess. Yes, that too."

They walked in silence for a bit before she returned to the topic.

"_That's why you were always so keen to get me back to my family,"_ she said, head bent so low over her phone that he couldn't read her expression. _"You were hoping for some sort of ransom."_

"'Ransom' would imply that I had kidnapped you," he said, his words lighter than his state of mind. "That was never the case. A reward, yes, the idea did occur to me."

"_And now?"_

"And now... I enjoy your company. I'm not a man to turn down an offer of treasure, but I don't need payment to want to see you."

At that, she met his eyes, and he was alarmed to find that there were tears in hers, though she was smiling.

"Ariel," he said, "don't fall in love with me, whatever you do. That's not on the table. You do realize that, don't you?"

She laughed. _"I do. And I'm not. That's the best bit. You have no idea how relieving it is. Instead of being hopelessly enamoured with a man who doesn't even notice, I kind of like a guy who kind of likes me."_

Hook found her reply to be an immense relief. While he probably would have proceeded with the dalliance either way, it was always a nuisance when the girl carried around all sorts of feelings that he couldn't return, and a damned shame too.

"Any man who doesn't notice you is an idiot," he said. "I could follow the mesmerism of your arse down the wrong alley. Three wrong alleys."

"_You do realise everything below the waist is a part of the witch's spell, right?"_ she asked, turning a corner.

"And she did a damned fine job of it." He tugged at her braid and spun them both around, ending up with a firm hold on the arse in question. "Not that the top half isn't fabulous, too."

She put her arms around his neck and held her phone there to write, _"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special."_

"Oh, you want me to spread it on thicker?" he teased. "Bits about your keenness of mind and kindness of heart? I shall need some food first, in that case, to bring on the inspiration. Just know this." He leaned in, fixing her gaze in his, determined not to be the first to smile. "I wouldn't be here, if you were just a body."

That was the plain truth, too. He could sleep once with just about anyone, but to come back for seconds took some extra incentive. Ariel wasn't the kind of woman who could hold his interest indefinitely and alone, but there was something sweetly refreshing about her, like the faint scent of lavender.

Her actual perfume was something heavier that would have suited some women, but not her, a mis-step that reminded him that for all her mermaid nature, she was now a mortal girl. He got a full whiff of it as she gave him a quick kiss and then pointed across the street.

"What?" he asked and turned his head. The bright blue sign of the Fish & Chip shop appeared in his line of vision, and he winced, because he knew then where they were, and what other sign he would see if he kept turning. Too close to Rumpelstiltskin, but there was no brief explanation he could give her, and so he forced a smile instead. "Excellent. I'm starving."

Most people in the shop took their food to go, but Ariel ordered hers to eat in, which of course obligated Hook to do the same. It was more convenient for him anyway, and he quickly realised that Ariel's reasons had been similar, as she placed her phone on the table and continued the conversation as she stuffed food in her mouth.

"_I'm waiting."_

"For what?"

She gestured at him to eat, and he did.

"_There. Now you get to compliment me."_

"Oh, do I?" He dipped another piece of deep fried fish into sauce and chewed on it, enjoying the greasy, crunchy taste. "You're very resilient," he said, meeting her gaze. "It's not romantic, but it's admirable nonetheless. And you do have a kind heart, but it's still a strong one. And I believe I have been doing quite a lot of complimenting now and you have been doing none, so," he pointed his piece of fish at her, "your turn."

"_You're a handsome man, with the most beautiful eyes,"_ she wrote, growing more serious as she continued, "_You saved my life. And you were very kind to me. Maybe it was for the reward, but it was kindness just the same. And even now..."_

She stopped mid-sentence and blushed.

"Yes?" he asked, as he took her hand in his and let his eyebrow rise.

She mimicked the signature move and gave a wry smile._"You're charming my socks off."_

"You're not wearing socks," he pointed out, peeking under the table. "You're wearing – oh! The thinnest set of stockings I ever saw. And those legs! Gods! I need to write that witch a letter of commendation." He tilted his head a little further. "Are you aware that from this angle I can see all the way up... ow!"

The exclamation was due to the fact that she had just kneed him in the face, and he withdrew, rubbing at his nose.

"_You're not supposed to be looking from that angle,"_ she said, and her prim expression was so much like one of Wendy's that it left a lump in his throat.

"You know," he said and sat back down on his chair, "sometimes you really remind me of someone."

Her eyes turned to his wrist, and while the tattoo was hidden under his shirt he knew that was the aim of her gaze, and he shook his head. No, Milah had been an entirely different kind of creature. Emma, now and again, had a touch of Milah about her, but Ariel next to none.

At Ariel's questioning look, he continued, "It was a brief aquaintance, and a long time ago now. It must be... well, almost a century. But she had that same way of looking at me. So high-principled that you just wanted to ravish her on the spot."

Indeed, that very notion would have been enough to earn him reproach from Wendy, but Ariel was enough of a mermaid to let it slide, and merely asked, _"What happened?"_

"Much the same as what happened with you," he said. "She left me, for my wicked ways, and had the poor taste to fall in love instead with an immature, conceited, ill-bred brat. My only consolation is that she left him too, in the end."

She pondered that, and then something seemed to strike her. _"What was her name?"_

"Wendy," he said, "Wendy Darling." Even before he had finished speaking, he could tell from Ariel's expression that the name meant something to her. "You know her?"

"_I have heard of her."_

"From here in Storybrooke? No – from the book, right? I may need to read that book."

"_We could rent the movie."_

"What's a movie?"

"_Finish up,"_ she said, cramming food into her mouth. _"I'll show you."_

* * *

Of all the peculiarities of this place, perhaps the most ridiculous and petty was the way that they restricted access to pissing. Hook had to aquire a key from the patron before he was allowed into the bathroom, where he did his business while Ariel waited outside.

What he saw once he exited into the street made his blood run cold. Rumpelstiltskin and Ariel were standing together, him speaking to her while she had her face bent down, preparing a reply. As her device spoke, Hook cursed the fact that he was too far away to hear her but he could see the closed expression on Ariel's face. Whatever that monster had said, it had not been welcome news, and he raised his hook as he came closer, though he knew it would serve him little.

"Well," Rumpelstiltskin said. "Speak of the devil."

"Step away from her, beast," Hook spat out, "or I swear I shall burn your store down to the ground."

Rumpelstiltskin leaned in closer to Ariel, making Hook's wrist twist in futile anticipation, and told her, "Such bad company, dearie, don't you think?"

Hook struck then, with full force, even though he knew it was no good. Indeed his hook was warded off before it reached its target.

"Don't fuck with me, pirate," Rumpelstiltskin sneered, and walked off, with a limping gait like the one he'd had back when he had just been a poor, snivelling spinner.

If only he'd had the courage to duel back then, so Hook could have killed him on the spot. At this moment, he wished he'd done it anyway, and never mind what Milah would have had to say about it. At least she would have been alive.

In impotent fury, he snatched away Ariel's phone, ignoring her gasp of protest, and scrolled to see what she had written, if there was any sign of betrayal.

"_What do you want? / I don't believe I owe you anything, Mr. Gold. / There is nothing that you can take from me that I would care about losing."_

"Don't challenge him to find a way to hurt you," Hook warned, thrusting the phone back at her. "He will."

Furious, she pounded away on the phone at him, though of course the mechanical voice was calm as always. _"How dare you? Don't ever take my voice away from me again. It's mine. If you want to know what I've said to someone, you ask me."_

"You shouldn't be speaking to him at all!" he growled.

"_You don't get to tell me what to do. What is it between you and him, anyway?"_

Spinning the wool over her eyes wasn't really an option, not in his current state of mind. His choices were between telling her the truth or leaving, and he opted for the truth.

"I came here seeking revenge on him," he said, trying hard to keep a steady voice though his pulse thundered in his ears. "For this." He lifted his left arm, then tugged at his right sleeve to show the tattoo. "And this. He murdered her, took my hand, and I swore to kill him. It has taken me much too long, but finally, I'll soon get to fulfil my vow."

She stood in silence, and he expected her to leave, or to give him some sort of lecture about the immorality of vengeance, the way Wendy would have done. Instead, when she finally wrote something, it was just, _"Be careful."_

He knew that look on her face. He had seen it before – when speaking to Sir Maurice about his daughter, or the Lady of Avenant about her son, or a little pink fairy about her best friend. The look of someone who would never, ever have the courage to go up against the Dark One, but who was pathetically grateful that someone else would.

"You know him too, don't you?"

"_Everyone knows Mr. Gold,"_ she replied, evading the question._ "He owns this place."_

"I don't mean from this world," he said, and sat them both down on one of the wooden benches outside the store. "From the other."

She bit her lip, then nodded.

"How? Tell me everything you know about him."

Her fingers paused between every word, and though he ached to hear the story, he waited patiently like so often before.

"_After I had made my deal with the sea-witch, my sisters still came out to see me this one time. They found out that Eric didn't love me, and they went back to the witch to get the deal undone. She refused to do it, or to give them a new one. She said that she'd had enough of stupid mermaids. So instead they turned to Rumpelstiltskin. Each one of them sold her hair to buy legs, for one night only, to walk the earth. In addition, they stole some treasures from my father's chambers and used them to buy a knife. By stabbing the prince with this knife, they could steal his life force and use it to restore me. The only way to save him would be if I died instead."_

She stared at the screen and swallowed hard, then continued,

"_You must understand, they did it to help me. To them, the choice was easy. We had fed upon sailors our whole childhood. It was my love that was unnatural, not their blood-thirst. They came to me and claimed to want to see my beloved. I was fool enough to show them to his room, and they stabbed him, presenting me the knife. "Here you go," they told me. "Restore yourself, be our sister once again." I couldn't do it, of course. I destroyed the knife and threw the remnants in the ocean, then as the storm brew, I threw myself in after it, to drown myself and save Eric. They never forgave me."_

"So you didn't meet Rumpelstiltskin yourself?" Hook asked, disappointed.

"_I did, some time later, while I was working as a dancer. He came to me and said that if I was unhappy with the deal I'd been given, I could always make another. I think... I got the distinct impression that he thought the whole thing was funny. That he'd known how it would turn out, or at least he didn't mind it. So I told him no. I'd never make another magic deal, for as long as I lived. He laughed at that, but he left me alone."_

The story wasn't of any use to him as far as his vengeance went, nor was it among the worst ones he'd heard of the Dark One's actions. Just another run-of-the-mill deal gone wrong, though it did explain the bad blood between her and her family.

"I'm sorry," he said.

They sat in silence for a while, then she sighed and wrote, _"Well, this makes for a glum date. We should go get those movies."_

* * *

Movies, whatever they were, seemed to be stored in small, flat boxes with images on the front. Some were portraits created with such lifelike skill that Hook would have suspected the artists of using magic, had he not known that to be impossible. Others were of a more stylized appearance. Ariel led them to an aisle lined with colourful pictures and proceeded to search out the items she wanted.

There were names on some of them that were highly familiar. _Mulan_, _Snow White and the Seven __Dwarfs_, _Alice in Wonderland_... and he started a little at _The Swan Princess_, though it seemed to feature an actual swan. Others meant nothing to him, even if a few raised his interest. He wondered just how fearsome an _Iron Giant_ could be and whether there was anything about _The Black Cauldron_ that distinguished it from all other kitchenware.

Ariel held up the two items she had chosen: _Peter Pan_ and _The Little Mermaid_.

"That's not a very good likeness," he said, giving the mermaid on the picture a critical look before turning his attention to the other box. Pan's portrait didn't have a good likeness either, but that just served the little pest right.

Catching sight of something else, he blinked. "Is that supposed to be _me_?"

She burst into laughter and gave him a pitying nod.

"Dear Gods. I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"_It's been done to all of us. In fact, we could start with mine if you want. Give you some perspective."_

"No. No, I want to see what the people of this world say about me."

Once they were back in the apartment, Ariel set them up in the sofa with a bottle of wine and a bowl of "popcorn", strange white treats that tasted of nothing but salt and oil yet proved strangely addictive. She took from the box a small flat disc and slid it into a machine that soon proceeded to show pictures, much like the way her phone showed text, except for the lifelike way that these drawn characters moved. By now he knew that a question of how things worked would nearly always get the answer "electricity" or "computers." While the former of those things might be somewhat explicable the second was not, and any attempt to sort things out only confused him more. Still, the images fascinated him, and so he asked anyway.

The explanation, for once, turned out to be simple.

"_It's pictures that change so quickly the eye can't keep up,"_ Ariel told him. _"Like this."_

She took a dictionary out of the bookshelf and drew, in pencil along a corner, a little stick figure with a ball. On every new page, she shifted the position of stick figure and ball slightly, and finally she pulled her thumb across the pages so they flipped through her hands.

The stick figure threw the ball into the air and caught it again.

"Ah," Hook said, looking up at the movie image. Ariel's demonstration had been very simple, yet taken a good deal of time to carry through. The movie consisted of much more detailed images, and he marvelled at the skill it would have taken to make them all move. Regardless of his feelings on the subject matter, he couldn't help being impressed. "Very well. Carry on."

They returned to the movie, and as he watched the dog serve medicine and the caricature of Pan chase his own shadow around the nursery, he realised that this was a children's story, a bedside tale for babes too small to even be told about any real adventure. Which was all very well, except for one thing.

"She's a little girl." He frowned at the image of Wendy. "At least five years younger than she's supposed to be. Will she grow up further, or are they honestly claiming that I bedded a _little girl_? I may be a pirate, but I don't seduce children."

"_They're not saying you bedded her at all. None of that is in the movie."_

"Not surprising," he said darkly. "The only thing they've got halfway right so far is that impertinent fairy."

Still, it was diverting enough, until he got to the portrayal of himself and half rose from his seat, teeth clenched and fist curled, ready to blast the world for daring to saddle this cowardly clown with his name.

Ariel grabbed his arm. _"If you break the TV set, you pay for it."_

"Might be worth it," he grumbled, but he sat back down and accepted the glass of wine that she passed him.

"_Drink every time there's an error?"_ she suggested.

"There's not enough wine in the world."

With this as her frame of reference, no wonder Emma had been so cold to Hook's advances. Who had written this libellous, juvenile tripe anyway? Pan himself? It would be just like him, but the portrayal of Pan in the movie was just a touch too unflattering. Pan would have made himself even more the hero. The pirates and Lily's people were all portrayed in an atrocious manner too. Wendy was the one who came off best, but this wasn't like Wendy, at all. Maybe one of her brothers. The youngest one, perhaps. Yes, an impressionable child getting his memories muddled with Pan's tall tales might just come up with something like this.

It was a little easier to take, thinking of it as the rambling insults of a pouting child. Not a lot, but a little. He still seethed at the screen, but managed to keep his grumblings down to a minimum with the help of wine, popcorn and Ariel's mouth against his.

"To summarize, then," he said once the movie was over. "Peter Pan gets every woman in Neverland, despite not being able to find his own cock with both hands, while I get called a codfish and am thrown to a _literal_ crocodile." He slid his hand in under Ariel's blouse and played with her nipple ring. "Well, little mermaid, I hope your tale is as atrocious as mine. Misery wants company."

She smiled, gave him a look of comical exasperation, and poured herself a drink, taking a hearty swig of it before leaving him to exchange the discs in the TV machine.

It was obviously impossible for Hook to know if this new movie deviated from the truth as much as his own did, but the crab with the sheet music suggested that this was the case. Not to mention the bizarre notion that mermaids would want to avoid the surface because humans were a danger to _them_.

"Did this really happen?" he asked as the prince's ship sank in the sea and the mermaid swam to rescue him.

Ariel nodded, but seemed disinclined to discuss the movie, her phone lying unused on the table and her face tense in concentration. Though this movie granted her more dignity than the other one had granted Hook, he couldn't help but wonder how she could voluntarily bear to watch it all play out, even with the help of wine. Was it some strange form of self-punishment? It had to hurt, to see the deal that maimed her and took her from her family to be with a prince who never even loved her back. Except in this version, it was very clear that he did, or at least felt a great deal more than the real-life fop had seemed to do. Maybe that softened the blow a bit, made it into some kind of a wish-fulfilment fantasy.

Despite the grim tale, Hook had to laugh at the more absurd parts of it, and even Ariel smirked a little at the chef chasing the crab around the kitchen. During the romantic scene that followed, she drained her drink, turned to Hook, and gave him a deep, wine-flavoured kiss.

He hummed his pleasure, but as he brushed aside the locks that had loosened from her braid, he did point out, "It's not true love's kiss. It won't restore your voice."

She shook her head impatiently and kissed him again, unbuttoning his shirt to get her hands on the chest underneath. During the rest of the movie, he paid very little attention, though he did notice that this version of the princess was the evil witch in disguise and that she nearly caught the mermaid until...

"They gave it a happy ending," he said and broke off the wooing to wrap his head around that idea. "They gave it a bloody _happy ending_. Who wrote this?"

She scowled at him and slapped her fingers lightly against his lips a couple of times, saying _"quiet!"_ clearer than words.

"All right," he said and eased her blouse off her shoulders. There was still plenty of time left before he could go to the ladies' tavern and seek out Teynte. He might as well be productive until then. Kissing her breasts, he murmured, "He's a bloody fool, you know. You're gorgeous."

Would he have preferred it if his own movie had been twisted in a way similar to hers, making him the hero of a happy tale where everything turned out fine in the end? He didn't think so. The caricature was annoying, but bearable. The mere thought of seeing a story play out where Milah got to live and they sailed off into the sunset, careless and free, made his heart ache.

The sofa was a smidgeon too small for their activities, and he kicked the table away to get some extra room, but Ariel still jerked her head towards the bedroom.

He nodded his agreement, and they walked in there, still caressing each other. The sun had not quite set, and they took their time undressing, letting eyes, fingers and lips claim the skin as it was revealed.

Her fingers brushed against his straps and she looked up, a question in her eyes.

"Go ahead," he told her, and she undid the straps and slid off the sleeve, gently carrying it in both hands to the bedside table as if it were a crystal chalice or a living creature.

The odd gesture made him smile, and while his hand sought its way down under her skirt, he caressed her cheek with his forearm. She turned her face to kiss the pale, scarred skin, sending shivers down his spine. Though it wasn't a subject he tended to mention, he loved that mingled sensation of pleasure and pain, as nerves that ended in nothing told him of touches that shouldn't be able to exist.

With a careful, deliberate lightness, he caressed the inside of her thighs and rubbed his thumb against their apex. Through the impossibly thin stockings, he could feel her getting wet, and it occurred to him that the sea-witch she had met in reality seemed a more generous sort than the one they had just seen. The movie had made no mention of cunny, and yet here it was, as lovely as the legs and a great deal more enjoyable for the lady in question.

Pulling her gently closer, he leaned back on the bed with her halfway to straddling him, his fingers still moving in a way that made her squirm, and with her arms leaning against his hips, he whispered in her ear, "Truth is greater than fiction, love, don't you think?"

In reply, she caught her mouth in his and closed her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Since Hook and Ariel had met up so early, the night was still young when he bade his farewell and headed back out onto the streets of Storybrooke, following the map Starkey had created for him. On the way, he passed the library, and a figure in the window gave him pause. Something about her was very familiar... and then he remembered the woman he had seen on his first day, the woman he had, many years ago, tried to kill.

He could still recall her eager assurances that Rumpelstiltskin wasn't a monster, and the thought enraged him enough to slow his steps. Why not pay her a visit? If that crocodile thought he could get to him by threatening Ariel, well, two could play at that game.

But the door, when he tried it, was locked and the sign upon it declared that the library was closed on Sundays also. In two days, then, he would return. Until then, he had a tavern to find.

His first hint that he'd found the place was the large striped tomcat lying on the corner, with all four paws tucked in.

"Hello, Fiddle," Hook said. "Are you enjoying life ashore?"

Fiddle, true to his feline nature, didn't move a muscle, though when Hook scratched him under the chin he deigned to close his eyes and purr.

Hook stood up and considered the entrance. It was an ordinary door, but the small sign next to it did say _The Wood Maiden_, and there was a tall woman guarding it, so he stepped up and offered his best smile.

"Ladies only," the guard said, as unperturbed as Fiddle.

"I know that," Hook said, "but I believe that a good friend of mine might be in there, so I'd just like to have a quick look around."

"I bet you would," she said, letting in some more people. "Go away."

He contemplated killing her, but it seemed a frightful lot of trouble just to get inside, and anyway, Teynte wouldn't like it. Thus he merely stepped aside to let the ladies in and kept arguing with the guard, who threatened to call the sheriff. That was a thought; maybe Emma could go in and look for Teynte for him – but no, it would take too long.

Finally, he addressed a customer who had stopped to listen, a middle-aged beauty with close-cropped grey hair. "Would you do me a favour, love? I'm trying to get hold of a friend. Could you go inside and shout that Hook... no. Say that Captain Jones is here, and to come out if they want to say hello."

"Leave her alone," the guard said, but the older woman didn't seem to mind.

"Captain Jones is here..." she repeated.

"...so come out if you want to say hello."

"All right, I will."

"Excellent. Thank you."

Hook waited outside, pacing the street, until something hit him in the chest with the force of a soft, fluffy cannon ball.

"I can't believe it!" squealed an overexcited voice under masses of frizzy hair. "We thought you were dead! Where have you _been_?"

"Hello, Andie," he said, stroking back her hair to see the familiar round face of his youngest crew member. Apart from a glittering, clearly fake stone in the wing of her nose, she looked much the same. "I only just arrived. Do you have Teynte in there?"

"Eddy's working the bar tonight. Arrived? You mean the curse didn't take you? Why not?"

"I was... occupied elsewhere. Could you call her out?"

"Afraid not, it's a busy night. But she said to tell you that we'll come by your place tomorrow if that's all right, and that I was allowed to give you this."

With that, Andie stood up on her toes, took his face in both hands and kissed him on the lips. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he returned the kiss, feeling with some surprise the metal of a wedding ring on her left hand. Either things had changed greatly since he last saw the two of them, or this world had traditions quite unlike his own.

"I take it that's from you, not her," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Listen, lass, I think it'd be easiest if you both came down to the Jolly Roger tomorrow. It's lying at the docks, you can't miss it."

"Ooh, the Jolly Roger is here? Great! I want to come see it right now! I've missed that old girl. Are we going out to sink some ships? There aren't a whole lot of them."

"No," he said slowly, letting go of her so she could bounce down the street with him in tow. "I'm here to get my revenge."

"Even better! It's bound to be a dashing adventure."

A dashing adventure wasn't how he'd describe it, and he wondered if it was really such a good idea, getting crew members like Andie involved. It left more flanks open for the Dark One to attack – but then, each and every one of those flanks could fight back, even Andie, and they provided excellent distractions. If he could have the most well-trusted take the occasional shift at the trap, and others execute minor skirmishes, then that might buy him enough time to row his plan ashore. He'd just have to hope they would all survive to the end.

* * *

Sunday went by without much ado, and it was a great joy to see Teynte again, though she was too stressed to give him more than a quick hello as she packed a large canvas bag.

"Sorry, Captain," she said, "but I've promised."

"Go," he told her. "A lady always keeps her promises."

"You could come along," Andie suggested, and Teynte gave a smiling half-shrug.

"Sure, why not!"

The three of them squeezed into a small car with the luggage and drove off to a monstrosity of a building at the outskirts of town. From what Hook could gather from the conversation, it was some sort of village sport that involved baking items, which didn't seem much like Teynte's idea of a good pastime.

"I'll clear my schedule for the times you need me," she told him. "We'll get that son of a bitch."

"We will indeed," he said, heart warmed by the display of loyalty, though he would have expected nothing less from Milah's old protegée.

As they reached their destination, Teynte unzipped her bag to strap on a strange pair of wheeled shoes and any number of padded items.

"Well," she said, giving Andie a quick kiss. "Cheer me on."

"You bet your sweet ass!" Andie said happily.

Hook watched Teynte enter the building with a determination as if she were going into battle, and asked Andie: "So, all those things she's wearing... Was she supposed to be _hit_ by rolling pins, or what was the occasion again?"

Andie laughed. "Rollerskates, not rolling pins. But you're not far wrong."

And as Hook found out once he got to see the sport in action, it was in fact a form of battle, if a mock one, and proved to be a most enjoyable day out.

The only dark spot on the horizon was that Starkey texted Smee: "I thought you both should know that R. is sniffing around my apartment." It made Hook all the more determined to send a message of his own where Rumpelstiltskin would really feel it – and to get his own phone at the earliest possible convenience, because this was getting tedious.

Monday evening after work, he strolled into the library and smiled at the girl behind the desk. "Hello, love."

She looked up with a service-minded smile of her own ready on her lips, which quickly died when she noticed his hook.

"You," she said between her teeth, and she backed off towards a cabinet, where she started rummaging for something with her hands behind her back.

"Me," he agreed.

She really was such a pretty little thing, he had no idea what she'd even want with the likes of Rumpelstiltskin – but "why" wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was that this dainty maid was an enemy, and a reminder to Rumpelstiltskin to stay the hell away from his crew.

"I'm coming for your man," he informed her. "Taking a detour by you."

He jumped over the desk and grabbed her, hook pressed against her neck, with the tip of it forcing her chin upwards. Should he rip her throat out, just then and there? That would be it, for his Storybrooke life. Emma would be on his tail like a bloodhound, and he wouldn't have much of a chance to finish his plan for revenge, but then, this might be revenge enough. Not to mention how much easier she would be to kill – he could have it done in a moment.

The girl was still fumbling for something. He used his right arm to pin hers down, but she had already found the item she was looking for: a bright yellow handgun. He laughed and lowered his hook to bat it aside, just as her finger pressed down.

With a crackling sound, something shot out of the gun, and Hook's entire body clenched up in pain. He fell to the floor, unable to move, while the girl ran for the door, pausing only to say, "Stay the _hell_ away from me!" before she fled.

The sensation lasted only a few seconds, but a searing pain spread up his arm. It was enough to nauseate him and make him crawl back onto his feet very slowly and inelegantly, hugging his arm close to his chest, grateful that no one could see him. His hook felt hot to the touch, but cooled as he found his footing.

That hadn't been magic. It _couldn't_ have been magic, because as far as he knew, that girl _had_ no magic, so any magic available to her would have to be Rumpelstiltskin's, and Hook was warded against that. But then, what was it? He had deflected her blow, and yet she had incapacitated him without leaving so much as a mark.

Well, that wasn't quite true. He turned his arm over, staring at the sheath that held his hook screwed on. The wood was burnt and blackened where it touched the metal, enough that he doubted the hook could bear much weight now.

A few well-chosen curses escaped his lips. Thwarted by a maiden with no more muscle than a field mouse. The thought was humiliating, and even more humiliating was the knowledge of how the Dark One would laugh at this.

* * *

He returned to the ship, grim and brooding. When Smee inquired of this change in disposition, he showed him the sheath, with no explanation as to how it had turned out that way. Smee tutted at the sight and assured him that of course they'd be able to fix a new one, it wouldn't take long now that Mullins was back in business.

"Is there anything else you want them to do, Captain?" he asked.

Hook pondered the issue. It was no use setting up any great plans before he knew the extent of the laws in this place and how to evade them; he'd need Starkey for that. One thing he had learned, however.

"Weapons are legal, right?" he asked. "Tell them to get weapons. Swords, knives, handguns, whatever they can manage. And do you know of a form of small gun that can incapacitate a man without killing him?"

Smee furrowed his brow in thought. "You mean like a taser?"

"What's a taser?"

"They fire off electrodes that knock out your muscle control."

"Yes. That. Tell them to get some of those, too."

The thought of every pirate in town having use of the same weapon comforted him a little. Still he was gruff and taciturn during the "take-out" dinner that Smee arranged. He remained on deck, thinking, while the sailor went to sleep, and only returned to his cabin himself when it was absolutely necessary lest he wanted to miss sunrise the next morning.

When at last he slept, it was a fitful sleep, full of strange visions that he couldn't hold on to, and he woke from one such phantasm with a pounding heart and an unpleasant smell in his nostrils.

It took him a couple of seconds to realise that the smell was real, and that it was a strange mix of wool grease and, more importantly, fire. He threw his legs over the edge of the bunk, reached for his hook, and shouted, "Fire! Smee, fire!"

Of course, knowing that blockhead, he'd probably think that meant fire the cannon, but with any luck, once the shouting woke him up he'd see the truth for himself.

When Hook opened the door, the smoke and stench made him cough. The forecastle was burning, and if he'd stayed asleep any longer, chances were that he would have died of asphyxiation before he ever woke up.

There was no sight of Smee; most likely he was still below decks. Hook looked at the flames rising from the beakhead, and then to the ladder, still unsinged. It was much too late to try drenching the fire; short of a sudden rainstorm, nothing could save his ship. As for Smee, Hook might be able to go down there and get him out before the fire worked its way through the deck, but it would be a lot safer to jump in the water right away.

Cursing the Dark One with all his heart, Hook climbed down the ladder and made for crew's quarters. From the side of the ship, he could hear somebody calling, but it was a woman's voice, not Smee's, and so of little consequence.

The door to Smee's quarters was impossible to open, bolted from inside. That bolt had seemed like such a good idea when they set it up. Now Hook pounded at the door, shouting Smee's name, carving at the wood with his hook to get that damned bolt out. The damage to the sheath was starting to take its toll; he could feel the hook ricketing like a loose tooth. From the deck planks and beyond the door, smoke was pouring through, and the temperature had risen to uncomfortable levels.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Emma asked, "What are you doing?"

"Getting Smee out," he said, clawing again at the splintered wood, which was finally giving way. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I was gonna... never mind. Stand back." Emma took the gun from her holster and shot at the lock, causing the door to swing open, more smoke billowing out.

"Thank you," Hook said and rushed inside, rolling Smee out of bed. The cursed fool was unconscious, but still breathing. Hook tried to shake him awake, and when that failed, threw an arm around him and made for the door. "Come on, hurry!"

One look at the ladder was enough to tell him that they couldn't go up that way. The smoke was thick now, and flickers of flame could be seen spreading down the deck. Unless they wanted the ceiling to fall down on them, they would have to escape through the cargo hold. This held its own dangers; there was still some gunpowder stored in the stern. With some luck, though, they'd be well out of there before the fire spread that far.

"Get down on the floor," he choked. Dragging Smee along, he had to remain, staggering, upright, but there was no reason why Emma should subject herself to more smoke than necessary.

She ignored the command and threw one of her own arms around Smee, the two of them making their way across the cargo hold like two scurrying ants with a load of crumbs.

The stern was still intact, thank the gods, and the fire seemed to have slowed, though the smoke thickened further, a sign that the hull had collapsed and water was pouring in. Hook pushed at Emma to climb the ladder, and when she had, he propped up Smee so that she could haul him after her. Finally, he threw his hook around a rung and pulled himself up – which was when the sheath broke, sending the hook clattering down the ladder. Hook managed to catch himself with his right hand, the impact sending a jolt through his shoulder.

"Damn it!" he yelled and gazed down at the hook below his feet. They were in a hurry now, and a new hook wouldn't be _that_ hard to make, there was no reason... but he still made his way back down and stuffed the hook into his pocket before climbing again.

With joined efforts, they got Smee to the side of the ship and over the edge into the water, where he first sank and then floated up, face down. Hook jumped in after him, and a few seconds later there was a splash that indicated Emma had landed as well.

Keeping Smee's head out of the water was difficult, especially since Hook still had a hard time breathing from the smoke, but he struggled to get them both around the ship to the pier

"Give him to me," Emma panted, swimming up to his side.

"Piss off, Swan."

"Give him to me, do you want to drown him?"

Hook let go, and Emma took over, swimming with swift, strong kicks to the pier as he followed behind. She seemed much less affected by the smoke, but then, she hadn't slept in it.

Both of them worked to get Smee up on firm ground, and then Emma dragged Hook up as well, though he could not quite find the strength to return to his feet. He slumped on the wet wood, his hand on his crew member's chest and his eyes fixed on the burning ship.

"I'm calling 911, okay?" Emma said, and when he didn't respond she left for her car, where she spoke to someone on her phone.

He hadn't the faintest idea who or what 911 was, but she must have called for some sort of help, because when she returned she was noticeably calmer.

"They're sending an ambulance," she said, "and the fire brigade."

"Fire brigade?" he asked, watching the sails burn like great flaming birds. A sudden explosion showed that the fire now had reached the gunpowder, and the ship started to tilt, stern sinking into the water. "There's nothing they can do now."

"They can find out what caused it," she said. "There was a smell, when I came on board..."

"Wool grease," he said.

"Yes. I think it may have been arson."

He was much too tired to even muster a proper smirk. "You don't say."

Smee still hadn't woken up, but his breathing was better now, and Hook tipped him over on his side, in case he threw up.

He was starting to feel an urge to throw up, too.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Emma said softly.

Hook raised one shoulder in a tired shrug. "You don't spend three hundred years with someone just to watch them burn." He rubbed at his stinging eyes. "What made you come here, Emma?"

"Oh, that. It can wait."

She sounded so uncomfortable that Hook frowned and gave her a hard look. "What?"

"I... well, thing is, I'm here to arrest you. For assault."

* * *

Emma was tough, but she was also compassionate. She postponed the actual arrest until they'd both been given a clean bill of health and the hospital staff had assured Hook that Smee would be fine.

The ride back in the police car was spent in uncomfortable silence and wrinkly, half-damp clothes. Hook didn't even resist the arrest – he figured he owed her that much, and he could always sweet-talk his way out of it later. Even back at the sheriff's office, when she patted him down and shut his hook in an unlocked drawer, they remained quiet.

Not until she closed the cell door behind him did she ask, "What were you doing with Belle anyway? And don't give me any bullshit. Were you going to kill her?"

"That would have been unwise," he said. "But I was angry... I might have."

"You were angry?" She shook her head and scoffed: "What kind of an excuse is that, to go after an innocent girl?"

"Innocent?" he asked bitterly. "She cares for him. What's worse, he cares for her. Why should he have that? Give me one good reason why any woman should attach herself to such a man."

"Because love doesn't work that way! Jesus! The worst people in the world have someone loving them, and you're pretty lucky that's the case, because I don't see anyone giving _you_ a gold star for good behaviour. The worst thing you can say about Belle is that she's showing pretty poor judgement, and that's not punishable by death. Not while I'm sheriff."

"Well, chalk that up as another entry on Emma Swan's list of rules!"

He wanted Belle dead, he couldn't deny that, but in and of itself, it wouldn't be enough. While killing Rumpelstiltskin's beloved would have a pleasant kind of symmetry to it, it would be a futile gesture if her lover remained at large to keep doing his dark works. The full scope of Hook's revenge would be almost impossible to attain, that way, even more so if Emma kept making things harder with her righteous stance.

And yet he couldn't hold a grudge against her the way he wanted to. Her strength and courage were too appealing, even when they worked against him.

"That's an old item on the list," she said. "Not killing anyone. It's been there from the start."

"Does that only go for me, or for everyone?" he asked pointedly. "He set that fire, you know. Almost had poor Smee killed. Are you going to lock him up too?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" he repeated, incredulous. Nobody went up against the Dark One, certainly not due to some moral principles.

"Yes. On my way there, right now." To prove the truth in her words, she put the keys in her pocket and headed for the door.

"For the love of all that is holy, Emma, be careful," he said, clutching the bars of the cell.

She stopped, her soot-streaked face softening a little. "Don't worry. It's not the first time I've had him arrested."

"Did he have magic before?"

She didn't reply, but her expression was pensive and her steps slower as she left.

Hook remained by the bars, unable to sleep or even sit down until he knew that she was safe. In his mind, he saw her transformed into some small animal or plant and stepped on, or into an inanimate object stored away in that old miser's shop. He saw her strangled, incinerated, and most of all he saw her heart taken and crushed, again and again.

It was therefore somewhat of an anticlimax when she walked in, after an hour or so, with Rumpelstiltskin in manacles beside her.

"You arrested him," he said. "You really arrested him."

"That's what I said I'd do, wasn't it?" she replied, but her tight smile was a little shaky.

Rumpelstiltskin had stopped short at the sight of Hook in the cell. "Oh, no. You're not putting me in there with him."

"There are two cells," Emma pointed out. "You go in the other one." She gently shoved him in the right direction and locked him inside.

"Emma," Hook said in a low voice. To have his enemy so close, yet be unable to take him down or even leave, was sheer torture, and that damned woman clearly knew it.

"I was going to have a night at home with my... my family," she said, swallowing before she continued. "Instead, first I have to comfort a shook-up librarian, then I have to jump off a burning ship, and I _still_ haven't had time to even change clothes. I am not in the mood for any more crap from either of you. I have a good mind to dump you both in a sand pit somewhere and let you slug it out."

"I think your boy has a bit of a disadvantage at fisticuffs," Rumpelstiltskin said, with a pointed glance at the cracked sheath that no longer held a hook.

"He's not my boy," Emma said.

Hook sneered, "I can take you one-handed, old man. Is that what you want? No weapons, no magic? You wouldn't dare. You're the same coward you always were."

"Sand pit," Emma muttered. She took off her jacket, hung it over the back of her chair, and sat down, leaning back with the heels of her hands against her eyes.

"And you're the same scheming bastard you always were," Rumpelstiltskin replied, approaching the bars between their cells. "Playing the wounded, vengeful lover. The part doesn't suit you, dearie." He spat out the last word. "See, a good Romeo doesn't lure away a man's wife and pretend to have her kidnapped and violated. You let me think the worst, you low-down piece of..."

"What did you do about it?" Hook challenged, moving in closer too. He could damn near strangle the man now, though he knew that if he tried, the magic would stop him. "Nothing. Not a damned thing. You would have let her live her life in slavery, raped by two dozen men, rather than risk your own precious neck. Your wife? Your possession, more like. Tell me, did you even know or care about what she wanted from life? Her dreams and hopes, her talents and passions, her favourite way of being pleasured..."

"Well, you must have pleasured her, all right, to have her abandon her own child. That's a fine choice of true love."

"Hang on," Emma said, took her hands off her eyes and put her feet back on the floor. "Wife? _Your_ true love was _your_ wife?"

"Did he neglect to mention that part of the tale?" Rumpelstiltskin asked. "Doesn't surprise me."

"Milah," Emma said. "The one who died. The one you..." Her gaze turned to Rumpelstiltskin. "Did you kill your own wife?"

"She left her son and me to run off with that pirate," Rumpelstiltskin said defensively. "Pretended to have been kidnapped, left me in agony."

"That was me," Hook said. "She just ran, without a word. I was the one who staged that little test, wanted to see if her husband was as bad as she'd said. Not enough agony to pick up a sword, eh?"

"Yeah, screw all that," Emma cut off, still focused on Rumpelstiltskin. "You murdered your wife for dumping you? What the hell is _wrong_ with you two? Is there any excuse for murder that isn't good enough for your warped little fairy tale villain brains? You know what, you guys deserve each other. Now shut up and go to bed before I shoot you both."

The men stared at her for a moment, then Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes and went over to sit down on his bunk. Hook did the same, still seething.

Emma remained in the office for a little while, doing paperwork, but in the end she pushed the pile of paper aside, grabbed her jacket and declared, "Both of you had still better be inside your cells and in one piece tomorrow morning, or so help me God."

She turned off the lights and left them in the resulting dusk.

Hook took off his boots, rolled up his coat as an extra pillow and pulled up the blanket. He could just about see Rumpelstiltskin on the other bunk, and as soon as Emma's steps could no longer be heard, he began to speak: "She dreamed of travelling, your _wife_."

Though speaking of Milah hurt, it was also a relief, even with his current audience. No, _especially_, with his current audience. Perhaps he would never get his enemy to admit any wrongdoing, but by heavens, he'd have his say, force him to think of her as more than a straying spouse.

"I made those dreams come true. Took her to all the grand cities and desert islands she'd ever wanted to see. She was a great pirate. I had her trained with the Amazons in Themiscyra, bought her some weapons there too. I never knew a woman as full-blooded and passionate as Milah."

"If by full-blooded you mean drunk and selfish," Rumpelstiltskin said.

"She loved variation," Hook said, raising his voice, desperate to make his words cut in the absence of other available weapons. "The old tried-and-true wasn't her thing. I imagine it must have bored her to tears, all those years with the same routine, sitting around the house..." The lewd mockery in his voice came unbidden. "Or lying down, even."

"Might just have been an itch," Rumpelstiltskin said in an icy voice. "Something you gave to her, no doubt."

Hook's hand clenched into a fist, but he kept talking, summoning up the image of Milah with his words. "The one thing she wanted most of all was to find a desert island that nobody had been to before. Well, you can't find those on a sea chart. I took her to some remote places, but it wasn't until a couple of years in... Of course, I can't be sure that nobody had been there ever, but it was empty enough when we got to it. Though there were animals, strange animals without even any names. I got her a tortoise. Well, Jukes found it, but I bought it off him and gave it to her. Looked perfectly ordinary, except it could shift its shell to form prophecies. We even managed to teach it our language. Nobody ever had a pet like it. Milah was thrilled. Named it Cassiopeia and doted upon it like anything."

"Oh, did she?" Rumpelstiltskin muttered, sounding different, almost melancholy. "_That_ she cared for. A reptile."

"She must have drawn it dozens of times," Hook said, hardly even listening to the words from the other cell now, so close was his love to him. "She claimed it was hard to get the facial expression right. I can't say I ever saw that animal have a facial expression, but it was there to Milah. She had an eye for that sort of thing, she drew everything. Architecture. She loved drawing architecture; I used to take her ashore in cities just to watch her face when she saw all the different buildings."

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. The other cell was silent now, any noise drowned out by his own belaboured breaths. "She was so utterly _alive_. Always looking for an adventure, as if she were afraid it would slip between her fingers otherwise. Headstrong and outspoken and damned cruel at times, with walls around her that she fought tooth and nail to keep up. You had to take them down one brick at a time, gentle as anything, and still give her a challenge in all other ways. Oh, she was a difficult woman, but worth every second of it."

He fell silent and opened his eyes, staring at the darkness, seeing her face.

"Oh, gods, love," he whispered. "I miss you."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Two plot points in this chapter have been disproven by the show, but I didn't know that when I wrote the first draft, so... well, it's AU anyway.**

The fact that Hook woke up an hour before dawn was of no use to him at all, since he couldn't get out of his cell, and he regretted bitterly not having told Starkey or any of the others about the trap. He'd have to do something about that.

As he paced the cell he noticed Rumpelstiltskin sitting up to watch him, and as the dim greyness grew into the light of day, he noticed also the sharp, searching look on that imp's face. Another reason to fill the pirates in, get them to divert some of the attention.

"You know what I want?" Hook asked bitterly. "I want your death to be slow. Slow enough that when your powers are gone, there's still enough time for me to flay you alive, rip out your guts, and strangle you with them as you utter your last, pathetic scream."

Rumpelstiltskin yawned. "Same to you, pirate. You really are spectacularly full of yourself, aren't you?"

"At least I've got something to be full of except a load of _shit_." Hook's eyes narrowed, and he smirked a little. "In fact, it seems... You may be lacking something else in the trouser department."

"I think your perspective might be off by the fact that I also possess an _upstairs_ brain."

"Oh, is that how your girl consoles you when you fail to perform?" Hook said with fake sympathy. "If that what she goes for, I've got some nice eunuchs I could introduce her to. Or tribades, if she'd prefer that. She looked like a girl who might benefit from some skilled licking."

That, at last, awoke Rumpelstiltskin's temper. He rose from his bunk and strode across his cell, arm raised. A wave of magic melted the bars between them, and Hook hurriedly raised his own arm to ward it off. They circled each other, wrists crossed like swords, and then Rumpelstiltskin lowered his arm and aimed instead for a physical attack, surprisingly strong hands closing on Hook's throat as they both fell to the floor. Hook wrestled the grip off and pounded the wooden end of his cracked sheath against the side of his enemy's wrist, and then against his face.

A gunshot into the ceiling made them both fall still.

"I cannot fucking _believe_ you," Emma barked. "You! Back in your cell! I'm going to count this as attempted escape and destruction of public property."

"I am so sorry," Rumpelstiltskin said with a grimace.

"Oh, you'd better be. As for _you_..."

"He tried to strangle me, love," Hook said, offering his best smile. "I was just defending myself."

"Zip it, Hook!"

"What?"

"Shut up, be quiet, hold thy tongue, asshole! Am I making myself clear?"

Hook winked at her, stuck out his tongue, and then demonstratively bit it. He had the satisfaction of seeing the corners of her mouth soften into something that, had she allowed it, might have been a smile.

Rumpelstiltskin had returned to his own bunk and now asked, "I'd like to use the phone now, if you please?"

It seemed like the worst possible time to ask for a favour, but Emma simply sighed and offered him her cellphone. "What do you need it for? Belle knows you're here, and you're your own lawyer, aren't you?"

"I am. I have some things I need to tell Belle. Now if you'd please?"

Emma obediently stepped away from the cell as Rumpelstiltskin dialled the number. Hook waved at her to come over to his side, which she did, rolling her eyes.

"What's this, then?" he asked. "Do I get to make a phone call too?"

"Sure," she said. "Who do you want to call? Ariel?"

"Not much point. My first mate, Starkey."

"Okay, you can have it as soon as he's done with it."

She really was accommodating, considering how angry she'd been when she first stepped in, and so Hook ventured another request: "And can I get my hook back?"

"No."

"Emma..." he reproached.

"I'm sorry, but prosthetics are one thing and potential murder weapons are another. You get it back when I think I can trust you and not a moment sooner. Anyway, your... fastening... thingy is all broken. You wouldn't be able to use it."

"I can get the sheath mended."

She crossed her arms. "Then you can get a new hook too, can't you?"

That was true, but to replace the hook he'd once used to stab Rumpelstiltskin with just any piece of metal formed in its likeness felt like blasphemy. He was so close to his revenge, and he had always imagined that when he took out the Dark One and did all those things he had threatened to do, he'd do it with that very hook.

At this point, his intended target, while still on the phone, seemed to take more than an ideal interest in their conversation, that weaselly face focused on them with an intensity that made Hook want to knock him unconscious.

"Please, I need you to come see me here," Rumpelstiltskin said into the phone, eyes still fixed on Hook and Emma. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. Great, thank you! I'll see you then."

He finished the call and asked Emma, "So, how long will you keep me here?"

"I'll be talking to Judge Nasruddin today about setting you both a bail," she said, and added drily, "Of course, melting the bars will have to feature into it."

Rumpelstiltskin sighed and raised a hand, raising the bent metal as wilted flowers given water.

"That's better." Taking her phone back, Emma handed it over to Hook, who used the one number he found he truly needed: directory assistance.

From there, he reached Starkey through his Storybrooke name, and though his present company meant that he couldn't say anything truly useful, he left a few basic instructions in language his first mate was bound to understand. Starkey also offered to look after Smee, which was unexpected and rather amusing. From experience, he knew that Starkey wasn't the most comforting presence at a sickbed, but then, that could be said for the whole crew.

Having finished his phone call, he remained seated, body deliberately kept still as he watched his enemy, even though his thoughts were racing. There were plenty of things he might have wanted to discuss with Emma, not least among them the terms of his incarceration, but he wouldn't want to reveal any kind of ignorance around the Dark One. At least her speech during his arrest the previous night had provided him with some hints of what to expect.

Rumpelstiltskin also remained quiet, and Emma eyed them both warily before returning to her other duties.

Halfway through the morning, Belle appeared in the doorway, looking nervous, but with an angle to her jaw that suggested she wouldn't let that stop her. Hook raised an eyebrow at the sight, and then a little further as she saw him and, just for a moment, flinched.

He gave her a sweet, wicked smile for that flinch, and Rumpelstiltskin glared at him before calling his lady closer.

"Belle," he said, so softly you'd almost think he was a gentleman. "Thank you for coming."

"I'm still angry," she said. "But I... I couldn't just leave you here, either."

She glanced over at Emma, who said, "Bail's not set yet, but if you want a moment to talk, that's fine."

"Thanks." Stepping up to the bars, she asked, "So what is it you...?" and then her voice got so low Hook couldn't hear it. The same was true for Rumpelstiltskin's reply.

Hook tried to make out what was being said by their body language. Whatever it was, Belle clearly didn't like it, and Rumpelstiltskin tried to convince her, giving her a comforting caress on the cheek.

"Hands where I can see them," Emma reminded them.

They broke off, and Belle stepped back. "Right. I'd like to..." She gave Hook a look of utter disgust, and then turned to Emma. Rather reluctantly, she said, "I'd like to drop the assault charges."

Hook blinked. Judging by Emma's expression, this turn of events took her by surprise just as much as him.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes. I was mistaken, and..." Belle grimaced. "Sorry. No. I want to drop them. Can I?"

"Yeah, but, listen, we've _got_ him on this one. He practically confessed. You don't have to do this. If you're afraid, I can arrange for some protection."

"I'm not afraid," she said fiercely. "And I don't need protection. Thank you. I just want to drop the charges."

Her gaze turned to Rumpelstiltskin, who gave her a slow, grim nod.

"What's going on?" Emma demanded.

Hook would have liked to know the same thing. This was not some sudden bout of compassion or fear; it was a decision dictated by the Dark One, and certainly for some nefarious purpose. The man's expression revealed nothing, and Belle's was a mix of too many emotions to figure out.

Emma did her best to convince Belle to change her mind, but Belle persisted, even though she'd clearly just as soon see Hook at the bottom of a well. Hook listened as they talked, and as Emma guided Belle through the forms she had to fill out, his eyes kept drifting to Rumpelstiltskin. What was his angle? Oh, the close proximity of their incarceration must itch at him almost as much as it itched at Hook, but that couldn't be the only reason.

At last, putting herself between Belle and Hook in a discreetly protective stance, Emma unlocked the door and let Hook out.

"I swear to God, Hook," she muttered, "if you do _anything_..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," he said, and with a sarcastic bow towards Belle, "Thank you."

"Oh, Ms. Swan?" Rumpelstiltskin said from his cell, his voice silken. "Just one more thing. I still have a favour to call in from you."

Emma swallowed and turned to glare at him, while Hook stared, dumbfounded, at Emma. During all their heated arguments, this little tidbit had never once reached his ears.

"I'm not going to let you out too," Emma said. "You'll have to wait for bail."

"Oh, that's fine," Rumpelstiltskin said. "I'll be out soon enough; you don't have any real proof, do you? No, I was thinking of that hook. Since you're not about to return it to its owner, I'd like to have it, please. Once I'm out of my cell, of course. As a small memento."

He sounded casual. The request, of course, was anything but. Short of an actual body part, none of Hook's belongings would bring nearly as much power, and who, in the Dark One's debt, would ever dare to defy him? Hook tried to will Emma to be the exception, to find the courage she'd used against him and Cora, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Here's what I'm going to do," she said slowly, taking the hook out of her drawer. She weighed it in her hands for a moment, before giving it to the astonished Belle. "You take it."

"Me?" Belle said. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one person in this room I trust not to kill anyone. Keep it safe, and hidden. If Hook gives you the least bit of trouble, you give it to Gold. Not a moment sooner. Are you okay with that?"

"Okay," Belle said, still dazed.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, looking none too pleased. "That's not what I asked for, dearie."

"That's what you'll get."

While Belle having his hook was infinitely preferable to Rumpelstiltskin having it, Hook still couldn't bear the sight. He moved to take it away, not even forming any proper plan, but before he could reach it, Emma had her gun up.

"If you touch her, I _will_ shoot you, is that clear? Now, get out of here, and don't give me any reason to put you back in, because next time I'll just throw away the key."

He was rather surprised that she hadn't already, with or without Belle's cooperation, and while he was so angry with her, with all of them, that he just wanted to kill something, he felt a strange sort of triumph too. She might deny it, but he was _getting_ somewhere with her.

"I could do worse than spend my time in your company," he said, winking at her. As he approached the door, he sweetly told Belle, "Why don't you ask your man what happened to your _first_ fiancé, that's a good girl? Oh, don't look at me like that, I've no clue. All I know is that he went to rescue you, and was never seen again."

The suspicion on her face, and the guilty anger on Rumpelstiltskin's, was enough to make Hook grin, but once he was outside, his smile died away. He punched the wall with his broken sheath. For all intents and purposes, Emma had tied him up _again_, and yet he had no choice but to be grateful. If Rumpelstiltskin had had his way, he could have kissed his revenge goodbye entirely.

* * *

Through whatever means, Rumpelstiltskin was also soon set free with what Emma called a "lack of evidence," which Hook found laughable since they both knew he'd set the fire. Since nothing new was happening with the trap, Hook was forced to lay low for the time being, and instruct his crew to do the same.

Thus, when Queen Regina came into the liquor store to ask him a favour, he was even more wary than he would usually be.

"Why would I do anything for you, Your Majesty?" he asked. "You are by far the most hated person in this town. I would endear myself to nobody."

"You would escape my wrath," she said, failing to muster the commanding tone that she'd used in the Enchanted Forest.

"If your wrath was of any consequence, you would have killed me already," he said. "Isn't most of your power gone, anyway? I don't trust your ability to harm or help me."

"I need to get rid of Cora," she said, "and you will help me. Or would you rather I just let her out of her cage?"

He fell silent at that, contemplating the alternatives. Cora was the most powerful ally he'd ever had. In a way, having her loose might serve as just the leverage he needed against Rumpelstiltskin, but that only worked if he could trust her, which of course he couldn't. His own fault as much as hers, but impossible to change at this state.

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because you're strong and ruthless. Do this for me, and I promise to aid you in your mission."

Striking any sort of deal with the Queen based on promises alone would be ridiculous, but doing nothing would probably end up worse in the long run. "I think I'd prefer a different form of payment."

"Which is?"

He made a quick calculation in his head and said, "Five thousand."

"Five thousand what?" she asked impatiently.

"Dollars, I believe, is the general currency."

"You want _money_?"

"I want money."

Her well-manicured hands clenched so hard into fists that her nails must have left marks in her palms. "Fine. Do you want it in cash, or do you have a bank account I should send it to?"

"Send it to Starkey," he said. "A pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty."

She scoffed at that and stormed out of the shop, but it took only a couple of hours for Starkey to confirm that the money had reached his account, and so the next day Hook took some time off to help deal with Cora.

The stairs had brand new banisters, but the cage built from the old ones was still in the cellar. It looked every bit as slapdash as when it was first created, yet so far in one piece.

"What now, then?" he asked.

"We'll drag it up from the cellar and drive it somewhere else, where the magic will ensure that my mother is no more trouble to me."

That sounded beyond shifty, but Hook figured that the first part should bring no negative consequences, even if the logistics of it might be a bit tricky. He walked around the cage, gauging its size and weight.

"I'll need some rope," he said.

She went to fetch some, without a word, and was remarkably amenable while he instructed her to pull various rope ends as he tied the hitches and knots, finishing with a bowline loop that he threw over his shoulder.

"Right, then," he said. "Push when I say."

With their combined efforts, they got the cage out of the house and up on the wagon attached to her car. It was a bumpy ride, and he figured she could have done it much more easily with magic, even if it was, as they said, unpredictable in this world. He'd heard about her promise to her son – Emma's son – but he thought she was really taking it a bit too far. Then again, it wasn't so different from the way he'd been forced to comply with Emma's wishes, excepting that Emma had actual power in this town, while Henry only had power over his mother's too-weak heart.

As Hook rocked the cage over to get it on the wagon, he asked, "She's not awake in there, is she?"

It seemed a painful and undignified fate, to be held in such a small area for weeks and then be shaken like baggage.

"She's in stasis," Regina replied, her face stony.

Hook asked no more questions, and they got in the car, driving to the edge of town, where Regina stopped. Unstrapping her seatbelt, she said, "I want you to take the car and drive across that line." At his evident disbelief, she added, "It's only fifty yards, and there's no traffic. I'll show you how."

"I know what that line is," he said, watching the white paint that crossed the road and was replaced by string where the woods took over. The first time he'd seen it and been told of its properties, he had marvelled at how ordinary it looked. "No, thank you."

Judging by the way she pressed her lips together, she had believed him as ignorant of the ramifications of the curse as he still was of so many other Storybrooke things.

"You were never part of the curse to begin with," she said. "You should be fine."

"Neither was Cora," he said, "so you're lying to me. That's not a wise move, Your Majesty."

"Are you threatening me?" she demanded, outraged. "How dare you?"

"Oh, I dare," he assured her, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed.

She drummed her fingers against her knee, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "So, I suppose you think we should just leave her here? I should call your accountant, ask for my money back?"

That would have been his second choice, but a much more pleasant option had already presented itself. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, "but even without a driver, this car can still roll, can it not? We could push it over the border."

Her fingers stopped. "But then I'd lose my car."

"If you don't want to, you don't want to," he said with a shrug.

"It could work," she said, thinking out loud. "The car's not too hard to get across, but the trailer's a problem. We're on flat ground, I don't know if I can get it far enough. Unless we weigh down the gas with something, but then the car would just keep going until it smashed into something. Then again, I suppose it's lost anyway."

"Or you could ask Emma to drive it," Hook said. "She's immune to the curse, isn't she?"

Her expression made it clear what she thought of _that_ idea, and he chuckled. Evidently he wasn't the only one who found the sheriff's lawful diligence detrimental to his plans.

"All right," she said, stepping out of the car. "Find a brick or something."

He found a suitably flat rock and they tied it to the pedal. Regina started the car while Hook stood back, and she jumped off a few yards before the city line. Together, they watched it cross the border, veer wildly across the road, and roll across a ditch into a tree.

"Using magic would have been much easier, would it not?" Hook asked, as smoke began to rise from the front of the car.

"I promised Henry I wouldn't, unless it was an emergency."

"Considering your mother's power, I'd call this an emergency. And isn't the next part magical?"

"On the contrary," she said. "It's taking the magic away."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and across the line, the pieces of wood started falling off the wagon, first one by one, then in droves, revealing Cora's dishevelled form.

"Mother!" Regina cried out, and then, her voice breaking, "Mama!"

Cora sat up, slowly, steadying herself with one hand and bringing the other up to her forehead; stasis or not, the ordeal had clearly left her with a headache. She looked around, and said something that neither of the other two could hear.

"Mother, will you please come back here? It's dangerous out there!"

Cora raised her head and looked at Regina in silence for a minute, her face revealing nothing but bewilderment and worry. Then she slid off the trailer and started walking back, a slow, laboured shuffle that would have suited a woman twenty years her senior.

"Oh, mama!" Regina said as soon as Cora was back, throwing her arms around her mother in a tight hug. "Don't ever do that again! You frightened me so!"

"What happened?" Cora asked, sounding as if she had to go deep inside her mind to find those words.

"You tried to drive. You mustn't drive in your condition, what were you thinking?"

Hook listened to the admirable display of acting talents that Regina showed in the gushing over her mother. Perhaps there was even something genuine in there, buried in the liberal helping of manure.

After a while, Cora's gaze drifted in his direction, and she asked, "And who are you?"

"This is..." Regina said, letting go of her mother.

Hook cut in. "Killian Jones," he said, and took Cora's hand in his to kiss it. "A friend, who is glad to see you safe."

Cora straightened her back and raised her chin, most of the old-woman frailty falling off her as she gave him a coquettish smile and said, "Charmed, I'm sure."

And so she was, he realized. It was his most definite clue that Cora as he had known her no longer existed, because she'd never once been duped by his bag of tricks.

It was a suitable solution, elegant even, but it still had him frowning, and as Regina placed her mother on a bench in order to buy some water and aspirin at the drugstore, he murmured into her ear, "All's well that end's well?"

"Is there something more you want, Hook?" Regina snapped in an equally low voice.

"Don't get me wrong, I admire your resourcefulness. But if you think this is anything less than murder, you're deluding yourself."

"Thank you for your services," she replied. "They'll no longer be needed."

He shrugged and returned to Cora on the bench to give his farewell. The smile she gave him made him think. The town border had taken her memories, but she'd had a strong magical skill which might still remain. If so, Regina be damned, because proper use of his further services where Cora was concerned might give him the little extra push he needed to succeed.

* * *

Hook had bought a phone on the day the Jolly Roger went under, but it had been ruined by the plunge into cold water, and so he'd had to buy another one, before bidding the call centre goodbye forever. The phone had a variety of bizarre functions that he figured he'd learn when the time required it, and, thanks to Andie, every time he got a call it sang a shanty about some lad named Joe.

In addition to this song, it also had a "ping" sound that it made when he got text messages, although he could never quite get used to his coat suddenly going "ping".

He had just sold two young women some purple liquid that, judging by the label, combined perfectly fine alcohol with some fruity abomination, when the phone did just that. Hauling it out of his pocket, he read, _"Meeting my gran today. Wanna come? /A"_

The question was simple enough, and yet it made him scowl. His arrangement with Ariel was fun and easy-going, but she had shown little interest in meeting his crew, and he none at all in meeting her friends, which he had come to realize were not many. Relatives were more serious than friends; relatives were people he usually took care not to get introduced to. While Ariel's uneasy relationship with her family was unfortunate for his coin-purse, it was in all other ways a blessing.

On the other hand, he did find it likely that the old woman might have some valuables, even in this world, and granddames were often sentimental when it came to their grandchildren.

"_I would be delighted,"_ he wrote back, and got a brief message of punctuation in reply, which he had learned signified happiness.

They left in the early evening. He watched her in the car, trying to figure out what she'd been thinking when she invited him over, but her attention was on the road and her phone in her bag, so there was little point in asking any questions.

This world's habit of keeping all the elderly and infirm in one place was unusual, but the house was grander than he would have thought from the notion. It had bright corridors and reminded him most of all of a more colourful version of a vestal temple.

Ariel led the way into a large room where several old people were seated in front of a television set, watching a peculiar display of balls and numbers that seemed to be some form of wager. Frail as they might be, these people seemed as fond of gambling as a pirate crew. A few more sat in other areas of the room, and by a small table, an old woman in a wheeled chair was laying out cards. The moment she looked up, Hook knew that this was Ariel's grandmother, not only from her benevolent recognition of the younger woman, but from that regal posture, which he'd seen but rarely in Ariel herself.

"Hello, dear," she said, the volume of her voice indicating that her hearing wasn't what it once had been, though part of it might have been her experience at giving commands. She had an accent which Hook couldn't place, with soft vowels and a throaty R. "Sit down. Is this the young man?"

"In a manner of speaking," Hook said, and pulled up chairs, first for Ariel, then for himself. Most likely, he outranked the lady by quite a few years, though he wasn't expert enough in mermaid aging to tell for sure.

The old dowager scrutinized him, packing away her cards at the same time. Though her hair was white and cut short, her eyes were as blue as Ariel's. "Hm. He's handsome enough. What are your intentions with my grand-daughter?"

She certainly didn't waste any time, and he wondered if he ought to lie. The trouble was that Ariel was sitting right there, and she not only knew the truth, but up until now had seemed fine with it. Looking to her for guidance on how to play things, he saw her give him a reassuring nod.

"We enjoy each other's company," he said. "I don't plan on staying long in this town, though, and... well, I wasn't exactly going to ask for her hand in marriage."

"Thank heavens for that!" she exclaimed.

Ariel made a couple of quick signs that he couldn't grasp the meaning of, but the dowager translated it with some indignation.

"Friends and sex? What kind of relationship is 'friends and sex'? You never could get the hang of things, girl! Seduction is not friendship, and just because the rules in this world prevent us from eating them, that's no reason to get sentimental."

Some of the other residents were glancing over in their direction now, though most were still utterly engrossed by their wager.

"You listen to me, young man," she said. "I don't mind Ariel having shenanigans with some pirate, it's about time she did, but that's as far as it goes. In this ghastly place, I suppose I must get used to the idea of her future intended being human, but I do have standards. It should at the very least be a man of means and culture. A lawyer, perhaps, or a doctor. Am I making myself clear?"

"I don't think either of us have an argument with that," he said.

Ariel shrugged and made a wry face, signing something.

"A nec-what?" her grandmother asked, and Ariel repeated the signs. "Yes, yes, don't be so literal. I'm obviously not in favour of doctors who raise the dead. Such a mess. Now, be a good girl and go tell the nurses how I want my drawers organised, I've tried to talk to them, but they just won't listen. You're so diplomatic, you might get through to them."

Ariel smiled and rose from her seat, but when Hook tried to do the same, she put a hand on his shoulder to indicate that he should stay. She gave him a quick wink and a thumbs up, and then she left.

"You seem full of contradictions," the dowager said. "For one thing, Ariel told me your name is Hook, yet you don't wear one. Why?"

"It's having repairs," Hook said, looking down on his exposed stump, which still had some faded red burns from his encounter with Belle's taser. Jukes was working with the local carpenter on the replacement hook, and they'd made some progress, but the fit wasn't quite right yet.

"I see. Then there's the fact that you're a pirate who speaks like a gentleman. Captain, I assume?"

"Yes."

"And how about your father?"

"Long dead."

"Don't be cute. Before he died, what was he?"

"A knight," he said. "Minor knight. Not much money."

The dowager nodded. "And you're the younger son."

"Fourth son," he said. They both knew what that meant, and so he summed up his familiar tale: "Joined the navy, found it deadly dull, turned to the privateers, worked my way up to captain, then the war ended and I became my own man."

"Meaning piracy. Did your family disown you?"

"Forcefully so," he said, and found that time had healed the hurt enough for him to grin at the admission. "Though my mother relented some after my father died. Not enough to put me back in her will, just enough to plead for me to mend my ways and to weep for me in a few temples."

"What a joy of a son you must have been," she said sarcastically. "I suppose Ariel finds some sort of kinship in that."

Now that the dowager mentioned it, he recalled that Ariel was the youngest daughter, and there was no doubt that her actions had disappointed and disgraced her family, if in a manner entirely different from his own.

"Fifteen years old, she stopped eating sailors," the dowager said. "Said they looked too much like merfolk. 'Eat the legs, then!' I said, but she wouldn't hear of it. Her sister, foolish girl, said, 'Then you might as well stop eating fish, they look like us too.' So she did, and lived off seaweed for a month! Well, she tired of it, soon enough, except she still wouldn't eat anything with the head still attached. We thought it was just a whim, but it was a sign of things to come. This unhealthy obsession with humanity, and the way she fell head over tail for men like that prince. Her father had the sea-witch executed, of course, but by then it was too late." As Hook was still taking that in, she told him, "You don't seem like her type."

"I don't suppose I am," he said, and since he knew how two of her previous liaisons had ended, he added, "That's probably for the best."

"I'd say. I wouldn't have thought she'd be your type, either."

"I don't really have a type," he said, but he understood what she meant. There were the girls he flirted with, and the girls he stuck around for, and if he'd been given a description of Ariel in advance, she wouldn't have struck him as being the latter, even taking the similarities to Wendy into account.

"She claims you saved her life."

This was his moment to milk his actions for all they were worth and then some, but the dowager seemed too sharp to fall for fair talk. "It was a storm, we picked her up from the water."

"Why?"

"At first we thought she was one of ours. Then..." He was about to make a joke about how they couldn't have thrown her back in, but then, they wouldn't have had to. She'd been more than willing to do so herself. "It seemed a pity to let her die. I wanted to bring her back to her people. That... didn't happen."

"Well, better late than never," the dowager said. "Her father won't pay your dues, but I suppose I must. Will you take it in jewellery? I don't have much in the way of cash."

Now that the moment was finally here,he wasn't as keen on the remuneration as he'd thought he'd be, but he needed every resource he could grasp, and couldn't let some ill ease withhold him from treasure. "Normally, I'd love that arrangement, but I'm afraid I'm not in any position to resell jewellery. I have unfinished business with the local pawnbroker."

"With Mr. Gold? You just become more of a catch every minute, don't you? Very well. I'll sell the jewellery and give you the earnings afterwards. Will fifteen hundred do?"

That was considerably less than Regina had given him, but a favour done decades ago could never bring up the same price as a more recent one. Also, it was clear that despite her airs, in this world the dowager had no great riches.

"You're too kind," he said with a small bow. "Thank you."

"Hm. You're a smooth-talker, whatever else you may be. Now, bring back my grand-daughter, I want to speak with her. Oh, and if you do insist on friendly relations with her, I do think you could spend a few of those dollars taking her out to dinner or something. Show her a good time before you leave town."

"Of course, milady," he said, rising from his chair. "It's an honour."


	10. Chapter 10

Hook did take Ariel out as promised, but there was only so much dining one could do at restaurants, and so he spent a great deal of the money elsewhere, to what he considered very great effect.

Emma didn't have the same reaction, as evidenced by the way she ran out of her car and yelled "Hook!" when he was coming down the street.

He halted and grinned at her. "Hello, Sheriff."

"You're on a horse," she said, her face showing a disbelief that was hardly warranted by the situation.

"Indeed I am."

"A _horse_."

"It's legal," he pointed out. "I checked with Starkey."

"Okay, obvious question, _why_ are you on a horse?"

"Because I know how to ride one. I don't drive a car, and I haven't quite mastered the bicycle."

That made her smile, and he could easily imagine why, after the tumbles he'd taken trying to learn.

"Captain Hook on a bicycle," she said. "I'd love to see that. Where did you get that horse, anyway?"

"The riding school. His name is Bach, which as I understand it is the name of a musician. He is a little more docile than I prefer in a riding animal, but he'll do." The angle from horseback was getting increasingly awkward for conversation, and so he dismounted, opting instead to lead Bach by the reins as he walked alongside Emma. "I'm renting him while the school doesn't use him, and my old cook permits me to use the garden to keep the horse in while I run errands. It's a very practical arrangement, though of course not as practical as it would be for your town to have a reasonable number of stables."

"That's..." She shook her head and chuckled a little. "That's beautiful."

"Glad to finally have done something that pleases you."

Bach, dissatisfied with this new footpace, pushed at Hook's shoulder with his muzzle, and Hook stroked him over the forehead. "Take it easy, boy."

"I see you've got a new hook," Emma said.

He looked down on the item in question, a fine piece of steel attached to a sheath more comfortable even than the previous one. The local carpenter Jukes had worked with was a highly skilled professional. "Why, do you plan to take this one away too?"

To his satisfaction, a faint blush crept up across her cheeks. "No."

"Good. Though I'd rather you'd given this one to Belle than the other one." The bantering tone turned cold as he continued, "I'm not too keen on my life being at her mercy."

"At least she _has_ some mercy," Emma pointed out.

"That's her folly, and my luck."

Emma fell silent, and he wondered if she'd go so far as to apologise, but of course she did not, any more than he would.

"What could he do with it?" she asked.

"What _couldn't_ he do with it? Unveil my plans, exploit my weaknesses, maybe even figure out a way past my defences to kill me."

"But if that's what he wanted, why not just let you stay in that jail cell?"

"Killing me while I was in jail would be a touch too conspicuous, wouldn't it?"

"Well, wherever your body showed up, he'd be the prime suspect. And vice versa, of course."

"_If_ my body showed up." Watching her, he could see that the thought hadn't occurred to her. It appeared that magic was still as foreign to her as much of Storybrooke's wonders were to him. "Would you think twice if you saw Rumpelstiltskin with a new snuff box? Or if somewhere there was an extra worm, slithering into the ground?"

"But he couldn't do that, could he?" she asked, shocked.

"Do me a favour, love," he said with a sigh. "If some day a three-legged mouse should scutter past your door, don't fetch the cat."

She mulled that for a bit, and said, "You know, I shouldn't even care. Not after what you did to Belle, and you've made your intentions concerning Gold pretty damned clear. But..."

"But you do care." He smiled. "I'm touched to have become an object of your affection."

Her face immediately returned to its customary dismissive state. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Truly, though," he said. "The great Sheriff Swan has decided she prefers me alive over dead. This is a most extraordinary occurrence. I don't know how to repay you. Perhaps at the very least, you'll let me offer you a ride." With a sly look, he added, "I promise you, you'll find the experience most enjoyable."

"Really, Hook?" she asked, grimacing. "We're right back to that shit again? After 'oh, my life is at Belle's mercy'? Jesus." She shook her head. "That sort of thing may work on your harem, but it doesn't work on me."

"I don't have a harem," he said, undeterred.

"Right. What about those two girls you were with at Granny's the other day?"

"Melisande and Lialill. Melisande's the tall one. Funny fact, she used to be taller still. There was this unfortunate attempt to break a curse, you see. You should ask her to tell you about it some time."

"And Henry tells me that you've been hitting on Cora."

"Then he lies. Why would I hit Cora? She is no harm to me in her current state."

"Hitting _on_ her. Flirting with her. Pursuing her in a romantic fashion."

"Oh. Yes," he admitted, "that I have done."

"Why the hell would you even do that?"

"Because whether she knows it or not, she's the second most powerful magic user in this town, and should she ever discover this, it might be advantageous for me to be in her good graces."

Emma stopped short and stared at him. "You low-down bastard."

"Thank you."

"What if she gets her memories back?"

"Well, then I'll be in deep trouble either way, won't I? I won't deny it's a gamble." Since Emma still wouldn't move, Hook halted his steps as well, but Bach didn't like that at all and kept prodding him with the muzzle until he moved again.

After a beat, Emma followed, muttering, "It would serve you right if _she_ turned you into a toad."

"Oh, no doubt," he agreed.

"So that's three, plus that woman with the eyepatch, plus Ariel, plus Lord knows who."

"The woman with the eyepatch is Black Malin. She's with Starkey."

"Then how come I saw you kissing her?"

"Old times' sake."

"Five women," Emma said pointedly. "And I'm guessing that's not all of them. How is that not a harem?"

"What kind of question is that? Have you even seen a harem?" He snorted at her expression. "Clearly not. A harem is the women's quarters of a castle. In its more extreme form, which seems to be what you're thinking of, it's designed to keep women in, and men out, so as to ensure that the king's wives will always be ready and unoccupied. That's not the way I operate."

"I stand corrected," she said. "You want them spread out. One girl in every port, that sort of thing."

"It bothers you." He stopped and watched her, giving Bach long, soothing strokes at the same time to keep him calm. His teasing was down to a minimum as he said, "You think I can't be faithful, but I can. I have been."

Though he tried to quench it, the sorrow rose in his heart at the admission. Fidelity never ended well. _Caring_ never ended well, so what was he doing to even address the subject?

"Oh, so what are you saying, you can stop any time you want to? Give them all up?"

"Yes."

"All of them?" She was still keeping it light, even though he'd ceased to, and he made some attempt to answer in kind.

"What, you'd want me to never speak to another woman again? Not smile at them in the street, perhaps, or even take a look..."

"Or pop up to Ariel's for a quickie?"

He stopped at that, with the ready-made flippant answer dying on his tongue. Of course he could give up carnal relations with Ariel, that wasn't even the _point_ with Ariel, and bedding a woman was ever so much easier when you didn't have to think about which positions were least painful... but where was the line? How could he possibly separate the simple conversations and entertainments from the touches, the kisses, the "sex" as these people called it? The idea of having to watch every step he took around Ariel was revolting; the thought of breaking the friendship off entirely even more so.

Emma's gaze was hard to meet, even more so because there was no judgement in it anymore, just a kind of tired pity, an emotion he'd always abhorred.

"What the hell are you doing, Hook?" she asked.

He swallowed, trying to find an answer that would make sense to her, or to him for that matter, and then Bach prodded at him again and he grasped at the excuse to avoid the conversation. "You know, the horse is getting restless, I should... get back on it."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"And you've got work."

"Yup."

He swung back up into the saddle and told her, "I'll be seeing you."

Halfway down the road, he broke into a canter. At least horseback riding was still an uncomplicated endeavour.

* * *

That Saturday, Ariel opted out of restaurants and offered to make Hook dinner instead. On previous nights, they'd mostly lived off takeout and leftovers, so he was curious to see what she'd make. Thus he said yes, even though there was still plenty of her grandmother's money left to spend.

Watching her rummage about the kitchen, he felt uncomfortable, recalling the conversation he'd had with Emma.

"Did you have a good time with whatshisname yesterday?" he asked politely.

Ariel halted her procession of taking food out of the refrigerator to grab her phone and answer, _"Tim. It was nice. Great view."_

"Mm."

"_He's built like a brick house, I figure he must have been a minotaur back home. Or a little piggy."_

"What?"

"_Joke."_

"Oh." He didn't understand it, but then, a lot of jokes flew over his head these days.

"_Did you have a good evening too?"_

"Yes," he said. He'd spent the night arranging plans with his crew, minor disturbances that, even if they were taken to Emma, wouldn't be traceable back to him.

Ariel paused, giving him an expectant look, but when he didn't say anything further, she returned to her dinner duties, grating horseradish and slicing up an onion. When she started spreading raw ground beef onto bread, he asked, "What are you making?"

She grimaced and held her hands up to show that they were dirty and that he'd have to wait for an answer.

"Right," he said, watching her place an onion ring on each meat patty and then a yolk inside each onion ring. As useful as her phone was, it had its limits, and it occurred to him that for situations like this one, there was a much better form of communication available. "How come you use hand signs with your grandmother, and that Ivan guy, but never with me?"

She rolled his eyes at him - _"Really?"_ - and then proceeded with a series of quick signs.

"Uh," he said. "Hang on, I didn't..."

Her smirk made it very clear what she thought.

"All right. Point taken. But I could learn, a little bit at least."

She considered this, sprinkling the food with horseradish, and washed her hands in the sink before turning around to make two signs, the first of which mimicking the act of putting food into her mouth. The meaning of the second became clear when she put the plates on the table and repeated the signs. _"Food's ready."_

"Got it! Thanks," he said, sitting down, but then he frowned at the plates. "Hang on, this isn't actually _cooked_."

Taking her phone in hand again, she replied, _"It's tartarmad. It's not meant to be cooked."_

As suspect as he found this, he was willing to try almost anything once, and so, with a liberal swig from his beer-bottle to start him off, he parted off a corner of the sandwich with his fork and gave it a try. "Not bad."

"_Thank you,"_ she said, and then corrected herself, giving him the sign instead.

"That's how you sign it?" he asked. _"Thank you."_

She nodded.

"Well, _thank you_ for the _food_, then," he said, signing the appropriate words. They were easier than he had expected, though he knew that there was much more to the language than that. "I do hope it's just beef and not minced-up sailor."

"_No, it's beef,"_ she assured him on the phone, starting off on her own portion. _"Sailor doesn't taste anything like it."_

"Doesn't it?

"_More like raw pork."_

He paused with the food halfway to his mouth, then took the bite after all. "Good to know. I do hope your taste for raw meat won't transfer into our nightly activities."

"_Don't worry, you're safe with me."_

"_Thank you,"_ he signed again with a grin, and then told her, "All right, give me another one, I'm tired of that one."

After a moment's thought, she gave him a series of finger signs.

"That's an awful lot. What does it mean?"

She pointed at him, then did the signs again, slower. _"K-i-l-l-i-a-n_."

"My name? You never call me that, though. Give me something more useful."

Her face softened. _"You're my friend,"_ she signed, typing it into her phone afterwards for translation.

The trust on her face made him frown. Damn that Emma and her way of trying to wake his conscience! "What was that sign again?"

"_Friend_."

"_You're my friend_ too." Where she had hooked her fingers into each other, he made use of his actual hook, and she gave a snort of laughter. "What?" he asked.

"_Nothing,"_ she wrote, quickly biting down on her amusement. _"It's just sweet. The way you sign friend."_

"Sweet is not anything I've ever aspired to be," he said, but the serious moment was gone and he was grateful for it. He took another bite and told her, "This food is much tastier than I thought it would be. Did you choose it for its simplicity, or was it an attempt to unsettle me?"

"_Both. Plus, it's kind of fancy while being relatively cheap, which makes it a nice dinner without any need to mooch off gran's money."_

He blinked. "You knew about that?"

She gave him a pitying smirk._"Why did you think I took you to see her?"_

"I... I wasn't sure." This put the past weeks' dinner dates in a new light, and he asked, "Why didn't you say something?"

"_I wanted to see if you'd stick around, now that we're even."_

There was a time when he wouldn't have. Even now, he was only staying in town until he'd had his revenge; he had no desire to grow old in this place. But the idea of leaving her still gave him a pang of regret.

"If you could return home, would you?" he asked.

"_Home to the ocean, or just our land?"_

"Either."

"_The ocean, maybe."_ Her face was wistful. _"Not our land, not with the spell in effect. I'd lose my tongue again, there, and I wouldn't have my iPhone, or proper painkillers. It's not worth it."_

What about Neverland? he wanted to ask, but didn't. The rules of Neverland were too similar to the Enchanted Forest, it would mean the same kind of changes, and in any case, it wasn't an offer he was willing to make. Here, they were two people with independent lives who enjoyed spending time together. Taking her back would mean a lot more than that.

"Well," he said. "I'm not leaving right now either." He took her hand in his and kissed it. "Now, did you have anything in mind for dessert? Because I have some suggestions."

* * *

What she had in mind turned out to be similar to his ideas, and dessert was spent in the shower, water streaming down their bodies. With her hair loose and wet, Ariel looked every bit the mermaid she had once been, and he allowed himself to imagine her with her kinsfolk in Neverland, sunbathing on a rock or splashing about in the waves – but of course the next part would be impossible then. He used his mouth on her with more gentleness than she'd ever brought out in him, relishing in her humanity and the perks it brought.

That night, he fell asleep in her arms. He woke up from his phone's soft vibrations at an early hour, and was loath to leave her sleeping, yet he had no choice. This night, the pirates were engaging in skirmishes and it was up to him to check the trap.

Walking through the woods, he heard footsteps behind him so soft that for a while, he thought he was imagining them, until the crack of a twig told him differently. His hook raised, he whirled around, only to find Ariel standing on the path.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, but of course he knew the answer. "Come," he said. "Be quiet."

They walked together the final distance, and he made his customary checks on the trap. Still nothing had been caught, but the air was vibrating in a way that suggested it might not be long, now.

"_What is it?"_ she asked.

He raised a finger to his lips. "A trap," he whispered, "to catch the rarest of all birds and keep its egg."

She tapped away at her phone, removing its sound, and showed him the silent word: _"Phoenix?"_ At his nod, she shook her head in question: _"Why?"_

Silently, he asked for her phone, and wrote back, _"The phoenix can burn away magic. Even a newly hatched phoenix, if properly used, can burn the magic straight off any wizard, including the Dark One. He would be an ordinary man again, with a throat ready to be opened."_

She pondered this and asked, _"Wouldn't it be dangerous to you, as well?"_

"_Of course. I have been given proper instructions to minimize the risk, but my protection spell might not hold up. Then again, I wouldn't need it anymore."_ He turned his wrist, to show the tattoo.

It was with some hesitation that she wrote the next question: _"All this for a girl?"_

"Not just any girl," he told her, opting to forgo the phone for a fierce whisper. "Do you remember what it felt like, when you tried to drown yourself for the prince's sake? _That's_ the kind of love, darling. I would have died for her. I would have been glad to, but instead she died for me, for no reason at all. Because he was too petty to accept that he'd lost her." He swallowed the lump that threatened to take his voice. "Milah was more than a lover, or a crew mate. I would have tried to avenge any of those, but Milah... I loved her more than myself. She'd reach for the stars, and damn it if she couldn't just about bring them down. I was a better pirate, with her, and a better lover too."

Ariel watched him silently, her face so pale in the moonlight it almost took on the blue tint of their first meeting. He took her hands and kissed them, fervently.

"Ariel, don't you understand? You have five sisters, don't you? If one of them died, would you mourn her less for having four more? If she was murdered, ripped from your very arms, would you not be out for blood?"

She raised her phone and wrote, _"My sisters tried to murder my love. But I do understand, I think. I just never knew you could love like that."_

"Does it bother you?"

She shook her head. _"I'm glad that you can."_

Her face was so full of sympathy that he felt oddly exposed, almost shamed, despite the kind words, and he covered up his tattoo as if that would make a difference.

"What about the others?" he asked, remembering the conversation with Emma. Though Ariel had no claim on him, it still felt important, for some reason, to learn her answer. "The lovers I still keep. Do they bother you?"

Of all the possible answers, he hadn't expected the smile she gave him.

"_I think I was given a heads up at Eric's wedding. You did fool around with three separate girls and never even seemed to notice that two of them were twins."_

"I... twins? I don't remember twins."

"_I figured. They were both in bridesmaid dresses, and you were pretty drunk, but still. And then there's the fact that your ringtone includes the words 'if I didn't kiss the girls my lips would grow all mouldy.'"_

"I didn't even choose that ringtone," he said. "Andie did."

"_She knows you well."_

Hook didn't respond, because of course Andie knew him, and her joke had been spot on, but at the same time, by the way Ariel phrased things he might as well have shared his bed with a hot water bottle rather than a girl. And maybe that was even true, for some nights, but it wasn't true for the two of them, not anymore.

He was just supposed to get his revenge done and head out of town. That was enough of a task without anything else to occupy his mind.

"Come on," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Let's go back. It's far too cold to stand around in the woods."

* * *

The first time he went to the sheriff's station that morning, only Snow's prince was around, not Emma, and Hook turned around in the doorway. The rest of the forenoon he spent searching for her all over town, until he finally spotted her entering the stairwell on his second visit to her apartment,, just after he'd given up and left. He turned on his heel and hurried after her in time to take the door before it fell shut.

"What the hell?" she asked, backing away instinctively. "Are you stalking me?"

"I needed to find you," he said, catching his breath. "There's something I have to sort out."

"Which would be?"

"I think we should kiss."

Her stance relaxed, and he realised with some surprise that she'd actually been afraid. "Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen."

"Just to know for certain. Then we could leave the matter be entirely, or choose to pursue it, but make it one or the other."

Even as he spoke, he expected her to brush him off, and if she did, he'd take that as another sign to go and never look back. Maybe she sensed some of that determination, because she shrugged and said, "Fine."

As invitations to wooing went, it was decidedly unerotic – her only concession to the situation was to uncross her arms. He took her face in his hand and kissed her, starting it off with a light meeting of lips the way he would with a new acquaintance, then, as Emma started to respond, deepened it into the exploration of tongue and teeth that he had perfected with Milah.

Emma wasn't Milah, but she was a good kisser once she allowed herself to be, good enough to awake his arousal. When she broke off, he withdrew with a sense of regret, but also a decision already made.

"So," he said, trying to smile.

"It was nice," she said, wiping her mouth. "But you know what I want? I want to raise Henry. I want to set a good example for him, and not be the kind of girl who rushes into bad relationships with any cute jerk that comes along just because it feels good."

"Not much to be said, then."

"And you?" she asked, with a small grimace. "I take it I'm not breaking your heart, here?"

"It's strange," he said slowly. "I thought I wanted the challenge, but... just because something's not difficult, that doesn't mean it's not worth having."

She raised her eyebrows. "You have a few too many negations there."

"If I had to choose a woman, it wouldn't be you." He winced at the sound. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean," she said, her face softening. "I figured that one out that day with the horse. You're a bit slow sometimes, aren't you?"

"Maybe I am. Well." As was customary in this land, he held out his hand for a shake. "Thank you for the clarification."

She shook his hand. "And the same to you. Good luck."

In all his life, he had never believed in luck, but maybe now he would need it, because while the kiss might have cleared up his feelings, that still left the problem with what to do about them.


	11. Chapter 11

It was during one of Teynte's night shifts in the woods that the text message arrived. Hook woke up from the sound and half-sleeping took his phone to read the one word on the screen: _"Glow."_

In an instant, his mind and eyes cleared, and he prodded at Ariel with his toes. "Hey. Wake up, darling, I need a ride."

Ariel buried her face in the pillow and made no answer, unless the uncoordinated slap she sent his way was one.

"Sweetheart," he said, "it's an emergency."

At "emergency", she sighed deeply and raised her head.

"You have to drive me into the forest," he said, rolling out of the bed to put his trousers on. "It's time."

She became a little more awake at this news, but not much. While Hook got dressed, Ariel started towards the bathroom, and he had to pull her back. "No time for that. Take a piss if you have to, but then get dressed." If they were to wait for her morning routine, the sun would be high in the sky before they made it out the door.

Even half-sleeping, with her hair coming loose, Ariel was a quick driver. Perhaps it would have been better for their safety if she hadn't been, but Hook was grateful for the speed. Only when they'd left the car at the edge of the woods and continued on foot did she lag behind, as he rushed towards the trap and the pair of pirates watching it.

The glow Teynte had spoken of had turned to fire and ash and left a burned, smoldering circle behind, with only broken twigs and strings remaining of the spell. That mattered little. He turned to her and asked, "Do you have it?"

Teynte opened the backpack she was holding and showed him its content: a single egg, the size of a human head and the colours of fire and smoke. "Here you are, Captain. Careful, it's still hot."

Despite the warning, he couldn't resist reaching out to touch the smooth surface, just a gentle prod before he took the backpack from her hands.

"This is it," he said softly. "I finally have him."

"Give him hell," Teynte said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Congratulations, Captain," Andie said, giving him a beaming smile as she squeezed her wife's hand.

With great care, he closed the backpack and hung it over his shoulder. Leaving the remnants of the trap behind, they returned to the path, where Ariel waited. Her face was tense and thin-lipped, and when he arrived she caught his gaze in hers, giving him a slow headshake and a shrug. Hook realised that she'd left her phone behind on the bedside table, but her expression was clear enough.

"I am more certain than I have ever been in my life," he assured her with a quick kiss. "Don't worry. This will be a day of legends."

* * *

They returned to Soeng's shop, where Hook made the preparations for the attack, calling everyone up to get them in place, allowing nothing to disturbe him. He barely noticed when Ariel went home, or when Skylights and Jukes showed up.

When Teynte entered the room, though, something about her demeanour made him still. He looked up, seeing the trouble on her face before she spoke.

"Gold has opened the pawnshop," she said. "He's got Prince James in there now."

"At this hour?" Hook said, annoyed. While he could handle the prince without problem, an attack now might alert that entire do-gooder family and their friends, which was a hassle he didn't need. "Fine. We'll hold it off until evening."

Teynte gave him an apologetic smile and left to deal with her civilian duties, while the others started getting the shop ready to open. It was too mundane, too normal, and made Hook itch all over.

Jukes had been sweeping up some leaves by the door, and was now hauling out the vacuum cleaner, but stopped and told Hook, in a low voice, "It's funny... I mean, it's not funny. But it feels so strange. I was just a lad, when Milah came on board. And now I'm ten times older than she was."

"Hmm," Hook said morosely, remembering the little runt of a cabin boy Jukes had been before his growth spurt. Milah had taken to him, spending all the pent-up maternal feelings and guilt she couldn't express elsewhere. In the end, he'd had to explain to her that a pirate, no matter how small, should never be mollycoddled.

"I've got Cassiopeia in a terrarium in my flat. You can have her, if you want."

Hook waved that away. "No. Keep it. But thank you."

All the waiting made him restless, but he didn't have the patience for anything else. Once he'd sent word to everyone to stand down but stay ready, he returned to the store-room, to get the egg out of the backpack and into something more secure.

The backpack was open, which gave him pause, but the egg was still there. Maybe the zipper had undone itself – one of his new pair of trousers had always done that, and in the end he'd had to trade them in for another.

Hook arranged some hay in a box and put the egg in there, sticking the box at the back of a cupboard. Then, just to make sure, he went out and asked Soeng, "Did you look in my backpack?"

Soeng was just about to roll up the steel door, but paused and said, "Of course not. Why, is there something wrong?"

"Probably not. Jukes? Did you?" Despite his many years in Neverland, Jukes still retained his boyish enthusiasm, which among other things included an above-average curiosity.

"Not me, Captain," Jukes assured him, mop of hair rising from the shelf he was stocking. His face showed surprised innocence, and Hook rather thought it told the truth.

"Hm." Hook brushed away the unease, chalking it down to the frustration of being so close to his target, yet unable to fire the cannon. He returned to the back room and started up the computer, figuring he might use the spare time to read up on this world's naval history. Maybe there was something he could learn.

About an hour later, though, Soeng came in and asked, "Have you seen Skylights? He went for coffee and never came back, and I can't seem to reach him on the phone."

Hook looked up. "No, I can't say I have." Skylights wasn't the kind of chap you noticed, but he'd been missing for quite some time, hadn't he? He'd come in with Jukes in the morning, but been gone before the shop opened. Before the incident with the back pack, and Hook hadn't thought to ask where he went. Skylights wouldn't dare to steal the egg outright from his captain, but to pass on information, if pressured... Hook stood up.

"Has anyone been to his home?"

"No," Soeng said. "You don't think..."

"Send Jukes. Do it now."

Waiting for Jukes's call, Hook returned the egg to its former place, secured the knife in his boot, and packed one of the Storybrooke guns for safe measure. He tried to reach the men guarding the pawnbroker's, but they didn't answer their phones, and so he ordered Starkey to check up on them, instead.

Jukes was the first to get back to him: Skylights was not in his apartment, and neither were his clothes. Hook cursed under his breath and called Starkey, who reached the pawnbroker's as they spoke.

"The men are down," Starkey said. "At least the ones in the alley, and it looks like the ones on the roof are too. Hang on, they're sleeping, not dead. Drugs?"

"A spell, more likely," Hook said. "All right, clear out, I'm going in."

"Are you sure you don't want us with you?"

"If he knows we're coming, we won't win him over with manpower. I've got a better chance alone, less distractions. Get the men out. Wake them if you can."

"Aye, aye. Good luck, Captain."

"Thanks. Oh, and if he should happen to kill me, burn that damned place to the ground."

"It will be my pleasure."

Hook finished the call, took the backpack, and headed out. In a way, he preferred this turn of events. The Dark One might think himself prepared, but Hook still had his protections in full force, and nothing would stop him from breaking the egg over that imp's face.

* * *

The street outside the pawnbroker's was empty, as was the shop itself. Hook stalked through it into the office, wondering if Rumpelstiltskin would be so cowardly as to run and hide.

But no, there he was, sitting in his chair with a book on his lap.

"Ah, Captain," Rumpelstiltskin said lightly, letting the book drop. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Quivering in your boots, I'm sure," Hook said, taking the egg out of the backpack so that it was held in the circle of his hook and cradled by his hand. "Or have you been scuttling around your little den, trying to find a counterspell for the phoenix? There is none."

"I'm not so worried about the phoenix, seeing how it's still in there," Rumpelstiltskin said, pointing towards the egg. "And there it will remain."

Hook scoffed at that and raised the egg to throw it.

"Now would be a good time, dearie!" Rumpelstiltskin called.

A soft yet unmistakeable melody could be heard from the shop, getting closer, and Hook knew it for what it was a fraction of a second before he discovered that he could no longer move. The music was beautiful, enchanting, but it filled him with dread. There was no use pretending that it could be anything but the song of a siren. All he could tell himself was that there were, to his knowledge, at least half a dozen such creatures in this town, and that there was no reason to fear the worst.

Yet the smug satisfaction on Rumpelstiltskin's face told him a different story. Hook couldn't turn his head to see the owner of the approaching voice, but he knew what face he would have seen, though he'd never heard her voice before, never thought it possible.

"Ariel, please," he mumbled through stiff lips.

The voice wavered, but did not fall silent.

"You know what they say," Rumpelstiltskin said, carefully taking the egg and cradling it in his hands as he ran some sort of a spell over it before he put it away. "If music be the food of love, play on! It's great irony, isn't it, one love putting you out of my reach and another returning you to it."

Ariel was now within view, and Hook managed to get his eyes closed, refusing to see the look of sorrow on her face even as her voice kept betraying him. Whether her actions were the result of fear or a desire for her voice he could not tell, nor did it make any difference; she had left him helpless in the hands of his enemy, unable even to die bravely in battle.

"That damned protection spell," Rumpelstiltskin said, and though Hook could not have moved his arm an inch, he felt the man's odious hand circle his wrist, and opened his eyes again to glare at him. "I'm going to have to take this off. Oh, just the spell, not the hand, that would be cruel. Or maybe I should?"

There was a glitter in his eyes that deepened as he spoke, and Ariel stopped singing for a moment, her face in utter shock. Hook took the opportunity to lunge at Rumpelstiltskin, who hissed, "Keep singing!" So she did, leaving Hook once again in stasis.

"Yes, maybe I should," Rumpelstiltskin mused. "It might be quite fitting, after all. Teach you what helplessness and loss truly feels like."

A trickle of cold sweat ran down Hook's back.

"Oh! Oh, that frightens you, doesn't it? More than death. More than _her_ death, treacherous little wench that she is. Or your crew. You're attached to them, but not quite as attached as you are to this." Rumpelstiltskin turned the hand over, running his thumb down the length of the fingers. "Really, though, so much fondness for a mere limb. But then, you're all about the brawn, aren't you? It wouldn't do if you had to rely on your brain."

Ariel was crying now, and he hated her for it, hated that she showed regret even as she kept hurting him more with every passing second. His body might be unwilling to respond to his own commead, but it was malleable to his enemy. Carelessly, Rumpelstiltskin placed Hook on the floor and chained him to the radiator.

"Face it, Jones, you're _nothing_. A two-bit crook with delusions of grandeur. You're not even worth the trouble of breaking that egg over you to take that spell of yours away. Not when it's so much easier to just hand you over to your other little lady love."

With a wry smile, Rumpelstiltskin fished his phone out of his inner pocket and made the call. "Hello, sheriff? Your pet pirate has just made an attempt on my life. I'd appreciate it if you came to pick him up." Still smiling, he told Ariel, "Shush, now, dearie, and run along. You've been wonderful; I hope you enjoy your side of the deal."

Ariel fell silent, which granted Hook some range of motion despite the shackles – enough that when she passed by him, he could turn his head the other way.

* * *

"Did you even have a plan?" Emma asked, locking Hook in the cell once again.

"Of course," he said, lying down on the bunk. "I was to strip him of his magic and leave him vulnerable."

"But?"

"But it didn't turn out that way."

"So, strictly speaking, this was the nonviolent option I asked for," she said, "except that you were going to kill him afterwards anyway, weren't you?"

"Yes." There were stains on the ceiling, some of them of a shape that with a bit of imagination could be some sort of animal or other creature, like a cloud.

"Wouldn't it be better for you just to leave this vendetta behind and move on with your life? It doesn't seem to bring you anything but more trouble."

"Is listening to your pontifications part of my punishment?" he asked. One of the stains was definitely a dolphin. "If not, I'd just as soon skip them."

Emma sighed, but didn't try to engage him further.

He'd have to try again, of course. Make a new plan, maybe even find that rumoured dagger that he'd dismissed once he learned that he'd have to take over as Dark One if he used it, and be vulnerable to anyone wielding it. Right now, even that seemed like a promising option. He couldn't give up, that was an impossibility – but just as impossible was the thought of making any sort of plan just then, or even leaving the bunk. The Dark One had bested him, humiliated him, and done it all with Ariel's help, and now here he was in jail, locked up for what might be a very long time.

The door opened, and Emma said, "Hi!" sounding surprised.

"Can I see him?"

There was no magic in Ariel's voice now, only a touch of the same accent her grandmother had, but Hook recognised it right away.

"Uh... yeah, sure," Emma stammered. "You... you're... you can..."

"She can speak again," Hook said, sitting up. "That's quite a lovely voice you have there, sweetheart. I hope it was worth the price."

Ariel stepped up to the cell, her hands trembling by her side. "No, that's not..." she said, her new voice on the verge of breaking. "Please, listen, I couldn't leave without explaining to you, because I don't think you understand."

"Of course I understand," he sneered and approached her, grabbing at a bar to stop himself from punching her in the face. "Given the chance, a deal like that, I might have gone for it too. But one thing I wouldn't have done is come crawling back expecting forgiveness."

"I know. It was awful, and I'm sorry, but I had to..." She'd started crying again, and he broke her off.

"Do you think I care how sorry you are? How much it pained you to sell me out to that demon? All that bleeding heart, won't eat heads, won't watch people get killed. Well, you picked a hell of a time to learn how to be selfish, didn't you?"

She had tried to cut in several times, but at this, she snapped enough that her voice finally overpowered his.

"Screw you, Killian!" she screamed, her face going red with the effort. "How dare you – _you_, of all people – lecture me on selfishness? You don't give a fuck what I do unless it gets in the way of your precious revenge! And you won't even _listen_...!" Choked up, she fumbled in her handbag, and he knew the gesture, had seen it so many times before – she was searching for her phone, to write a reply. Before she'd found it, though, she stopped searching and simply turned on her heel, running out of the room.

"Wow," Emma said after a moment's pause. "That was... what happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "She sold me out to Rumpelstiltskin for a new voice."

"It seemed like she was trying to say that wasn't the reason."

"I don't really care about her reasons." With slow steps, Hook returned to the bunk and flopped down onto it again. "You know, it's funny. I was so prepared to be stabbed in the back. I didn't trust any of my men, even after three hundred years of loyalty. Not to mention you. Oh, the loops I had to go through with you. But her..." He threw an arm over his face. "She completely blindsided me."

"Yeah," Emma said, her voice tinged with knowing sympathy. "I'm sorry. That's a godawful feeling."

Even in his dulled mood, the cold, calculating part of him registered this evidence of past hurts, but he just didn't care.

* * *

Emma left him well enough alone for most of the day, until late in the afternoon when she was called away for an hour. Once she returned, she headed straight for his cell.

"Hook," she said. "Hook, sit up, I want to talk to you."

He sat up, taking in her serious, pale expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Adam Janssen, electrician, was just found murdered near the town border. Hanged from a tree, right beside his car, and with the word 'snitch' carved into his forehead. Do you happen to have any explanation for this?"

Adam Janssen was Skylights' Storybrooke name. Hook frowned. "What's a snitch?"

"It's a person who tells secrets."

"Well, that's your explanation, then."

"Did you order a hit on this guy?" she asked, and when she saw that this was another unfamiliar expression, she snapped, "Did you tell your men to kill him?"

In some ways, she did think like a pirate, though the reasoning was still not quite right. Hook sighed and shook his head. "I wouldn't have to," he told her. "Treason is punishable by death, it's in the code, every one of them knows it. His life was forfeit the minute he started passing information to Rumpelstiltskin."

A thought struck him, and he leaped up and grabbed for her through the bars, panicked. "Give me your phone."

"What?"

"Your phone!"

"I don't know what you think you're playing at here."

"Who's playing? Give me the damned thing, or do you want another murder on your hands?"

Clearly stricken by his urgency, she handed the phone over, and he dialled Starkey's number, fumbling so badly that it took him three tries. When the posh, drawling voice picked up, he started speaking immediately: "This is the captain. Tell the men that Ariel is sacrosanct. Got it?"

"What happened with Ariel?" Starkey asked, and Hook realised that the full story wasn't out yet. Maybe, then, it wasn't too late.

"Never mind what happened. Tell them that they're not to touch Ariel in any way. She's to be left alone. Tell _all_ of them, and do it now."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Thank you," he breathed, ending the call, and leaned heavily against the bars. "Thank you," he said again as he gave Emma the phone.

She took it and gave him an odd look. "Do you know who killed that guy?"

"What guy? Oh, Skylights. No, of course not. It could have been any one of them, they all know what he did."

"And any one of them would have killed Ariel, but you stopped them."

"Is there a point to this?" he asked tiredly.

She stuck her hand in her pocket, hesitated, and then took out the keys and unlocked the cell. "Go."

When a jaildoor opened, only a fool didn't leave. Hook stepped out of the cell, but then halted and gave her a piercing look. "Why?"

"Strictly speaking I don't have proof you tried to kill Rumpelstiltskin, only that you tried to un-magic him, which isn't illegal and may even be a pretty good idea. And I know you didn't kill the other guy, because you were locked in here."

He shook his head. "That's not the reason."

Avoiding his gaze, she said, "I know what it feels like to be sold down the river by someone you thought you could trust. To be feeling like that, and still want to save her life, I figure, there's got to be something good in you. Something that's worth encouraging."

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't prove me wrong, though," she warned him. "I'm tired of seeing you in here."

"Does getting drunk count as proving you wrong?"

She smiled a little at all. "Not at all. Go get drunk, just don't end up in any fights."

"Your wish is my command, Sheriff," he told her, and left.

* * *

Between the liquor shop, restaurants, and stay-in dates, Hook had never really had to think much about which bars were available in Storybrooke. Teynte's place, because of the clientele, was obviously out of the question, and so with her help he ended up instead in a place called The Rabbit Hole. In accordance with its name, it was located underground, but was a great deal bigger and cleaner than an actual rabbit hole, though Hook didn't care much for the table cloths. Whether the owner had ever been a rabbit or not was hard to tell, but he did scare as easily as one, only suggesting once that Hook should take his liquor diluted with soda water before he relented and brought a bottle of the strong spirits known as vodka.

Hook was slowly but surely working his way through that bottle when Ariel slid into the seat next to him and told the bartender, "A Cuba Libre, please. I'd buy you a drink," she told Hook, "but you seem to be covered."

"You think buying me a drink would make everything fine?" he asked, taking another good long swig from the one in front of him.

"Not really, no." She took a chilli coated peanut from the bowl on the counter and nibbled nervously on it before going on. "I didn't do it for my voice. I know you're mad, and you have every right to be, and I wasn't going to bother you ever again, but I talked to Andie and I realized that I _can't_ let you think I did it for my voice, because I didn't. I wouldn't."

"Yeah? He fixed your legs, too?"

"No." She bit her lips and tried to continue. "That's not... no."

"So you got nothing out of it except what he needed from you in the first place?" Hook's smile was as wide as it was false. "That's beautiful. A perfectly rubbish deal, but then, so was your first one, wasn't it?"

"I got your life," she said, cutting through his tirade. "He was going to kill you."

"He was going to try."

"No, Hook, he _would_ have killed you." Her blue gaze held his, and there was only a hint of tears along the lower lashes. "He knew about the egg. I didn't tell him, I swear! He already knew."

Her fervour told him that she didn't think he'd believe her, which he actually did – Rumpelstiltskin would have heard about the egg from Skylights. He didn't see any reason to tell her that, however. Why should he reassure her about anything?

"He promised he would never kill you," she said. "Not just for tonight. Ever. And whatever you may say about him, Gold always keeps his promises."

That was a considerably better deal, to the extent that he was surprised that she had managed to get an agreement from Rumpelstiltskin, but then, with the powers of the Dark One there were plenty of other ways he might take out Hook, if he ever decided to use that phoenix egg. The enchantments Hook had semi-flippantly mentioned to Emma were one way, as were those threats of further dismemberments.

A shudder ran through Hook at the memory, and the rage that had started to dissipate came back in full force.

"And did you think my life was so dear to me? That I would want to keep it and lose everything in it, to be at his mercy, whichever form he chose to give me? That I should leave my Milah unavenged, as if she was a mere trinket for him to throw away at will? Is that what you think I wanted?"

"No," she whispered.

The bartender put down a brown drink with a slice of fruit before Ariel, but quickly hurried away to the other end of the counter when he saw Hook's glare.

"Damned right it's not. Should I show you gratitude? Forgive you everything, because you may have stabbed me in the back, you may have stood there singing and let him threaten to take me apart, but I have my _life._ Do you take me for such a coward, to value my life above all else, regardless of what form he gives me? My life, which is already longer than yours will ever be, _that_ you found worth saving, but not the revenge I've lived for? Did you think I would thank you for that, mermaid?"

"No." She was crying now, ugly crying with blotches on her face.

Something about her expression was familiar, so familiar that it scraped at his memory and wouldn't let go, despite his anger and hurt. Like a blow to the chest, the truth struck him, and he saw exactly what angle Rumpelstiltskin had played, to win her cooperation.

For the first time, he felt a pang of sympathy for Prince Eric.

"No," he said, more quietly. "Of course not. You did what you always did, you turned the whole thing into your private martyrdom, except with me as the prince this time. Well, that's a terrible role, darling, and I'm not a good fit for it. Oh, I can see it now. He had you all convinced you had to give me up to save me, didn't he? Played you like that fancy fiddle of yours. Damn it, Ariel, can't you see a bed of nails without getting the urge to throw yourself upon it? Have you ever even stopped to ask if there's another way? Why can't you love like a normal person?"

This made her laugh bitterly through the tears, and she gestured towards the people in the bar. "What's normal around here?"

"For starters, you might have told me he had come to you. Did that occur to you? To just say, 'game's up, we need a different plan?' Do you realise that if my men had found out sooner what you did, they might have killed you before I had a chance to stop them?"

"I don't care," she said, the corners of her mouth drawing downwards like on a pouting child.

"You _should_ care."

"Well, in that case, so should you!" She pushed her hair aside – it looked terrible, like she'd kept the night-braid all day without remaking it, which was probably the case. "I value your life, even if you don't! And maybe that is selfish of me, because I don't give a damn how ready you are to throw it away, I don't want to lose you. I know you don't love me, but..."

"Who says I don't love you?" he demanded.

She stopped short, staring at him. "You did. That was always the deal."

"Yes, well, I'm a liar," he said and reached out to take the back of her head in his hand, patting down her hair with fierce caresses. "I love you, and you love me, you little fool. We have to come up with a better way to handle that, because self-sacrifice is not a safe habit to keep around pirates. You need to – and I may be the worst person in the world to tell you this – you need to aim for a happy ending."

Very slowly, a smile broke through on her face, and despite the puffy eyes and bad hair, at that moment she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her. "I'd like that."

"Good."

"What about your revenge?"

"I'll think of something." That might mean having to find that dagger, but if Rumpelstiltskin was anything to judge by, even Dark Ones could love, and in any case, the decision could hold for a while. Milah would just have to forgive him the delay.

"But... aren't you angry at me?" Ariel asked, bewildered.

"I am _so_ angry," he told her. "I am so angry you wouldn't believe, but I love you." He kissed her on the forehead. "And Teynte told me there's a thing in this world called make-up sex."

She laughed, and cried, and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Oh, so you know it," he murmured, leaning his head against hers. "Have you had it before?"

"No, but let's have it now. Uh, not here."

"It doesn't strike me as that kind of establishment," he agreed. "How about the pool?"

"It's closed."

"I should hope so."

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Right," she said, getting ready to go.

"Finish your drink," he reminded her.

She lifted her glass, but stopped before drinking and raised it instead in a toast. "To make-up sex."

"To make-up sex," he said, lifting his bottle of vodka, "and a happy ending. One way or another."


End file.
